Quarantine Alpha
by LumpyChunks
Summary: Pre-RE1: The S.T.A.R.S team are called to investigate the series of strange incidents that leads up to the Mansion Incident.
1. Pilot

It had been a surprisingly quiet night for Doctor George Hamilton, the surgeon on-call at Raccoon General Hospital. All day he had been setting himself up for a busy shift and yet it had been almost four hours and not a single patient came requiring his expertise. Normally George would consider this to be a blessing as it would give him a chance to catch up on his reading or even get some shut-eye. However, tonight things were different. His books no longer interested him and his mind was too busy with thoughts and would not let him drift off to sleep.

He sat in the staff room on the third floor of the hospital looking out the window at the view of the Arklay Mountains. In his hand he held his wedding band, slowly twisting it in his fingers. The divorce had been finalized about a month ago but he had only just removed the ring. He had kept himself busy since his family fell apart as it was too painful to think about his wife taking the kids to New York. They had already moved, making George feel as though he would never see them again. This unwanted downtime forced him to think about all that he had lost and it was tough to contemplate. He clenched his hand into a fist and squeezed the ring tight, looking out at the view for some type of distraction.

In the foreground was a standard view of Raccoon City. No interesting landmarks stood out; the former art museum that was now the police precinct, the clock tower and city hall were in other directions. All that could be seen from this viewpoint were several small businesses, billboards advertising products by the Umbrella Corporation and quiet, empty streets. The blandness that he looked at made him feel empty, emptier than he already felt. To George, no matter where he looked there was nothing that could help ease his inner turmoil. Raccoon City, while big considering its origins as a small mountainous hamlet, was by no means a bustling metropolis. Nothing ever happened here. Nothing was exciting. Everything was just bland and average.

That was the kind of life George used to have and he had loved it. But now since his family had left he craved something new and exciting to take his mind off the pain of losing them. He considered moving but he had no money, not anymore. No matter how he looked at his situation he felt hopelessly lost. He desperately desired something new.

On Main Street a large commercial van turned a corner, driving at quite considerable speeds. There were no other cars on the road or pedestrians on the streets due to the late hour so the van was driving unaccompanied. It rushed past closed shops, restaurants and residences, sending stray items of litter flying up into the air.

The van turned a corner without slowing down and began driving deep into town. As it got closer to the city centre it passed a handful of vehicles but did not run into any trouble. Most other motorists knew not to challenge a van going at that speed. The driver of the van knew where he needed to be and was wasting no time getting there. It finally turned a corner and began driving up to Raccoon General Hospital.

George saw the van turn the corner, its high speed attracting his attention. He watched as it sped toward the hospital.

About one hundred yards from the accident and emergency entrance the driver slammed on the breaks and the van did a 180 degree turn as it continued going forward. It came to a halt with the rear doors facing the entrance.

With the engine still running, the driver and a passenger stepped out of the vehicle. They were wearing white hazardous materials suits. They walked quickly to the back of the vehicle and opened its rear doors. Both then climbed inside and disappeared from George's sight for a moment. He craned his neck to see what was going on. When they returned to view they had a man with them. He seemed in bad shape with a bag over his head, restraints on his wrists that were tied behind his back and blood all over his clothes.

George got to his feet and immediately left the staff room, calling for assistance.

Standing inside the van the driver and the passenger exchanged glances. In unison the driver pulled the hood off the man's head while the passenger released the restraints and kicked him out. The man fell onto the concrete, smashing his head with such force there was a loud and sickly cracking sound. His head was bleeding heavily.

The driver and passenger then stepped down, closed the doors and returned to the front of the van where they drove away, leaving the man lying alone on the ground. A hospital security camera watched him as he tried to move. He twitched slightly as he lifted his arm up but let out a loud, painful moan as he did so. He stopped moving and let his arm fall limply on the ground.

George and his medical team of six people emerged from the hospital entrance and immediately went to the man's aid. After a quick examination they lifted him onto a gurney and rushed him inside. George began voicing initial diagnostics with the nurses who were checking their new patient for vital signs. He was a Caucasian male in his mid to late thirties. He had no wallet, cell phone or any form of identification: his only possessions were the blood stained clothes that he was wearing. As a nurse tried to examine the bleeding on his head, she made a horrific discovery: his skull was coming apart. Parts of his brain could be seen. The man was still breathing, although it was slightly laboured. He was making moaning sounds and appeared to be in quite a lot of pain. George ordered for him to be transferred to an operating room immediately to be sedated. George told one of his team to contact the police to see if they could track the white van before he ran ahead to get properly attired for surgery.

This was it, George thought as he pulled on his scrubs. Finally something had come along to take his mind off his family. The most important thing to him now was taking care of his patient, nothing else mattered. As he started washing his hands he felt thankful that someone had literally been dropped on his doorstep.

Inside the operating room the patient was moved to the operating table and connected to a heart rate monitor. His heartbeat was erratic. He was injected with an anaesthetic as the nurses tried to stabilise his condition. Other shots were prepared and promptly administered by one member of the medical team. Almost immediately after he received the last injection the patient let out a loud scream and began to seize on the table. His spasms were quite violent so the team tried to hold him down. He was so strong that it took four of the six people to hold him down properly. The patient's eyes were wild. His mouth opened as he screamed. His jaw was wider than anyone had ever seen before. Then came the sound of cracking and tearing and he stopped seizing.

The beats per minute on the heart rate monitor dropped to zero. The long tone of a flat line filled the room.

A defibrillator was charged up and brought around. One member of the medical team ran out of the room to hurry up Doctor Hamilton. The man's shirt was ripped open as the rest of the team prepared to place the paddles. A nurse noticed that there were several needle marks all over his bloody and bruised body. His skin colour was darkening, turning into the colour of muscle. There was no time to ponder these sudden changes, so they placed the paddles on his chest.

With the first charge they delivered the patient let out a scream unlike any of them had ever heard before. Several people recoiled in shock as he lurched upward and to the side, falling off the table. He swung his hand out and knocked several people aside. A nurse put his hand to his face as he felt sharp pain. He checked his hand and saw blood. There were two deep gashes on the side of his face.

Everyone looked at the writhing figure on the floor. He had his hands on the floor and was arching his back upward. His limbs were trembling and the tearing sound could be heard again. His hands were beginning to change before their very eyes into what looked like sharp, dark claws. His body grew slightly, tearing the clothes so that they fell away. Fragments of his skull began falling away, completely exposing his brain. His jaw opened and a tongue longer than his forearm came out, twisting and bending in the air.

One of the nurses who saw it let out a terrified scream. The patient took one look at her and leapt forward through the air at her.

As George hurried through the corridor toward the operating room he stopped as he heard the racket inside. The sound of terrified screams mixed with crashes, bangs and the cries of agony filled the corridor. He ran over to see what was happening. As he was about to open the operating room door, blood splattered on one of the small viewing windows.

George stood a few steps back, trembling. He stayed there for a moment, hearing the sounds that were coming from inside. He gingerly went forward and looked through the other window. He saw people lying on the ground, dismembered limbs and eviscerated organs splattered around the room as people screamed and yelled. Blood was everywhere. George then saw a flash of a creature, a monstrosity that he had never seen before in his life. With that, he turned on his heel and ran down the corridor as fast as he could, running away from the monster and the screams of horror that continued to emanate from the operating room.

_Quarantine Alpha_

The loud, rhythmic creaking of the bed suddenly ceased and Jill Valentine lay back, letting out a long sigh with a sly smile. The twenty-six year old woman looked over at her partner, a thirty-year-old Umbrella pharmacist named Peter Walker. They were both covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Jill ran her hand through her long brown hair and let out a laugh.

"There's no way my neighbours didn't hear that."

"You live in an apartment complex," Peter said. "Surely worse sounds can be heard."

"You'd think so, but no. The people to my right are a retired couple and the person to my left is an overweight single woman. I hear nothing but the sounds of game show reruns on their TVs."

"You're living in a desirable residential area, that's for sure," Peter joked, rolling on his side to face Jill. She did the same. She had a well-defined, athletic body. Peter's was a little chubby in comparison. The two leant forward and kissed each other tenderly. Jill began to grin in the middle of the kiss and Peter pulled away. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, still smiling. "It's just that I don't usually do… you know… _this_."

Peter shrugged. "What's it like?"

"It's nice," she grinned.

"Just nice?" Peter said light-heartedly as Jill turned over. He went close to her and wrapped his arms around her body. "Well I guess I need to come here more often then."

"Well how about after the festival?" Jill suggested. "That is if we're still going?"

"Why wouldn't we?" He kissed her shoulder. Jill smiled, turned to face him again and proceeded to kiss him passionately.

They kissed each other for a little longer before Jill pulled away, letting out a small yawn.

"Tired?" Peter asked.

"I've had a busy evening," Jill chuckled.

"Well we can go to sleep if you'd like. Or I could leave if you want."

"I want you to stay," Jill said, placing her finger on his lips. The two smiled at each other.

The tender moment was interrupted when her phone started ringing. Jill let out a groan of irritation as she reluctantly turned over and reached for her phone on the nightstand, checking the caller ID. She then promptly sat up, shooting Peter an apologetic look before answering the call.

"Hey Chris."

"Hey Jill," said Chris Redfield. "Sorry to call you so late."

"Well I know you wouldn't call me unless it was important." She said this mostly for Peter's benefit as she felt incredibly rude for answering the phone. "What's up?"

"Wesker wants us down at Raccoon General right now. Something's going down over there."

"Right now?" Jill repeated. "What's the sitch?"

"I dunno. I'm heading that way now so I'll probably find out in a few minutes. Barry's already there. He just said he wanted you and me there ASAP."

"Okay," Jill sighed dejectedly, running her hand through her hair. "I'm on my way." She disconnected the call and looked over at Peter who had a look of mock sadness on his face.

"I take it we're not gonna get to spoon anymore."

Jill let out a final grin as she stood up to get ready, placing her phone down next to her S.T.A.R.S. police badge.

* * *

><p><em><strong>RACCOON GENERAL HOSPITAL<strong>_

* * *

><p>Jill was now dressed neatly in her S.T.A.R.S. uniform consisting of dark blue assault pants, black boots, and a light blue form fitting shirt with dark blue shoulder armour and a blue beret on her head that had the S.T.A.R.S. logo of three yellow stars in the centre of a circle that had Raccoon Police Department imprinted in the centre. Her S.T.A.R.S. badge was clipped to her right shoulder pad and her long hair was tied into a practical ponytail that ended below her neck. She drove up to the hospital, stopping behind Chris' car, a midsized land rover. She stepped out of her dark blue Honda Civic and looked up at the hospital, resting her hand on her gun, a S.T.A.R.S. standard issue Beretta 92. It had been modified by a local gun shop to make if more powerful so it was now known as the Samurai Edge. The S.T.A.R.S. logo was present on the left-hand slide of the weapon and on the grip panels. Jill sighed as she looked at the sparse police vehicles that were dotted around the front of the hospital and went ahead, shivering slightly in the cold night air.<p>

Inside the main accident and emergency ward she saw her teammates, Chris Redfield and Barry Burton. Chris was dressed in a green variant of the S.T.A.R.S. uniform with grey pants, black boots, a white undershirt and a green Kevlar vest with various pouches including a knife case on the left breast. Chris' hair was black and spiked. He was quite muscular in comparison to Barry who looked as though he had been putting on a few extra pounds lately. His attire was identical to Chris' except his vest was red and held a sophisticated holder for his .44 Colt Anaconda, a Magnum of incredible power. He had short, slicked back brown hair that was starting to go grey a little. Both men greeted Jill warmly as she stood with them, appearing rather short in comparison to them.

Jill looked around the waiting room to try and get a sense of what was going on. At first glance she could not see anything out of the ordinary. Patients were sat in chairs waiting to be seen to, filling out forms with the red and white logo of the Umbrella Corporation as the page header. Nurses were moving around, attending their business as they would normally do. Everything seemed standard and the presence of S.T.A.R.S. was quite out of place.

"So what are we doing here?" Jill asked, sliding her hands into her back pockets. "It doesn't look like we're needed."

"I dunno," Chris shrugged. "Wesker just told me to call you and get down here as soon as possible." He took another look at Jill. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

"I was trying to get some sleep when you called," Jill folded her arms. "This had better be good."

"Something's going on upstairs I think," Barry theorised.

"You think it's a bomb or something?" Chris said in a hushed tone.

"No way," Jill shook her head. "If it was something like that they'd be evacuating right now and there'd be a few more cops around. Whatever it is it must be a contained situation."

"If it's contained then why are we here?"

"Whatever the reason I hope it doesn't take too long to sort out," said Barry. "I didn't have a chance to eat breakfast."

"Barry, it's the middle of the night," Jill pointed out.

"I know, but I'd still kill for a sandwich."

Jill smiled at Barry and then looked over his shoulder and saw team leader Albert Wesker emerge from around a corner. She nodded to the others, making them aware of his presence. Wesker was a tall man with neat short blonde hair. His eyes were obscured by sunglasses. His uniform was a dark blue undershirt and a black Kevlar vest with black pants and boots. He wore a small headset.

"Thank you all for coming," he said as he approached the three. His voice was very deep. "We have a situation upstairs that requires our expertise. Come this way."

Wesker led them out of the waiting room and through the hospital corridors. They walked by nurses who, when out of sight from the general public, looked nervous, almost afraid.

"About two hours ago an unknown male was admitted to this hospital," Wesker explained as they walked. "He was thrown from a van by two men who were wearing protective suits of some kind. He was in pretty bad shape and was covered head to foot in blood. They were preparing to operate on him when something happened, something horrific."

"What happened?" Chris asked.

"The exact details are a mystery," Wesker said, stopping by the elevator. He pushed the call button and turned to face them. "What we do know, however, is that everyone who was in that operating room is now dead."

"Dead?" Jill repeated, raising her eyebrows.

"Murdered," Wesker elaborated. "Killed in a manner that is, well, beyond gruesome. The surgeon on call, George Hamilton, was the only witness as he was about to enter the room when he saw what was happening. He fled and sealed off the entire area." The elevator doors opened and Wesker stepped inside with the other three following with only slight hesitation. "Push three," he told Barry. "Hamilton said that he did not know what he saw in there but he could say one thing: it wasn't human."

The elevator began to slowly head up.

"The police were called to investigate the van. When they arrived and Hamilton explained the situation, they called in backup and then they called me," Wesker continued. "I called you in because I think we may need some experienced people here to find out what we're dealing with."

"Well we're not that experienced at dealing with inhuman creatures," Chris joked. After seeing how no one was laughing he cleared his throat. "So we have no idea what it was that killed everyone?"

"No," Wesker said flatly as the elevator came to a halt. "As I said; the area was sealed off. All we have is testimony from the doctor who seems a little rattled."

The doors opened and the team stepped outside. In front of them was a long corridor with a set of double doors at the end. Two armed police officers were standing by it.

"Every entrance has an armed guard and this entire floor has been evacuated," Wesker said. "Ryman is taking a statement from the doctor just down there."

Wesker gestured to the right, down a shorter corridor. A man wearing scrubs was stood leaning against a wall. He was as white as a sheet. The policeman by his side looked sympathetic toward him, patting him on the back comfortingly.

"So what's the plan, Captain?" Chris asked.

"We need to take down whatever is in there."

"Why do you have to say it like that?" Chris asked. "Do you really believe that there's some… monster in there?"

"You've not heard what the doctor's been saying," Wesker said.

"Well you said it yourself," Chris continued. "The nurses took a man in there, a man who was in bad shape, how dangerous can he be?"

"He killed everyone in the operating room," Barry said. "If we're gonna unlock this secret we're gonna have to know what we're up against."

"He was described as inhuman: that's got to mean trouble," Jill agreed, ignoring Barry's awkward turn of phrase.

"Whatever we do we need to be careful," Wesker said. "Barry; do a perimeter check and make sure that this floor is secure. I don't want any nasty surprised while we're up here."

"Do we have a complete statement from Dr Hamilton?" Jill asked as Barry left to do his job.

"Not yet, he's been giving it to Ryman for the past half hour. Why don't you and Chris go see how he's doing? I'm going to check and check the security office and see if the cameras have picked up anything we can go on."

"What about…" Chris' sentence trailed off as he gestured toward the armed guards outside the double doors. "You know…"

"I don't think there's any immediate hurry to rush into a situation we know nothing about," Wesker said. "Whatever is through those doors is contained, for now. Let's learn what we can before we try and take it down."

With the plan set, Wesker and Barry went their separate ways, leaving Chris and Jill where they were. They exchanged nervous glances and Jill folded her arms tightly together.

"Please tell me you've got a bad feeling about this," she said.

"Oh yeah," Chris let out a single nervous laugh. "I don't know what to make out of this 'monster' theory tough." He looked over at the doctor and sighed. "Let's see what this poor guy has to say, anyway."

Chris and Jill went over Dr George Hamilton who was being interviewed by Officer Kevin Ryman. When Kevin saw the two approaching he immediately stood up straight and put on a serious, professional face, making Chris roll his eyes. It was no secret that Kevin was desperate to join S.T.A.R.S. however he continually failed the selection process so now every time any S.T.A.R.S. member was near he put on a façade of ultra-professionalism in order to increase his chances for next time. Somehow, Chris suspected that it would not make much more of an impact.

"Officers," Kevin nodded to them, sounding as authoritative as he could.

"Yo, dude," Chris said in response before turning to George. "Dr Hamilton? I'm Chris Redfield and this is Jill Valentine; we're with the Special Tactics and Rescue Service."

"How do you do…" George spoke softly, feebly.

"I know that you've probably been asked this question a hundred times tonight but would you mind telling us what happened?" George sighed and rubbed his fingers between his eyes before nodding.

"I saw someone get thrown out of a van. By the time I got down to help it had already driven off. We brought the man inside and it was clear he was in a bad way. The medical team were prepping him for surgery as I got my scrubs on. Just before I entered the operating room I heard the noises…" George hesitated for a moment.

"What kind of noises?" Chris asked.

"The sounds of my colleagues screaming," George elaborated. "I went to have a look and saw… blood, a lot of blood… and I saw him, the man, but he'd changed… He looked… I dunno. I just got the hell out of there, sealed the area and called the police. I didn't stand around and wait to get killed."

"You did the right thing," Jill said reassuringly. "But, tell me, what do you mean by 'he had changed?'"

"He looked different. I mean I only saw a brief flash but he didn't look as helpless as when we had found him. He had several skull fractures; his scalp was literally coming off when we brought him up here. That was when I last saw him, the next time it was just a flash like he was jumping by quickly."

"He's missing his skull and severely wounded yet he's able to overpower your medical team and leap through the air?" Chris sounded sceptical, which was understandable but he needn't be rude to George by making no attempt to hide it, Jill thought. "In your medical opinion, doctor, do you think it's possible for a man to do that in that condition?"

"Well it sure as hell wasn't anyone else!"

"Could you offer any other description of him after he had changed?" Jill asked hastily. George sighed.

"No. All I saw was a lot of blood. That's all. I can't tell you anymore! I've told you everything; all I saw was blood and all I heard was screaming and banging!"

There came a loud bang from down the hall. The two policemen guarding the double doors let out a brief cry of shock as something began hammering on the other side. The doors vibrated slightly as whatever was on the other side tried to get through. Drawing his weapon, one of the policemen went to the small window to see what it was. Chris, Jill, Kevin and George arrived at the corner at the end of the corridor to investigate what was going on. The banging stopped as the officer peered through the window.

"What was it?" asked the policeman who had taken a step back.

The other officer could see down the hall on the other side of the door and saw the operating room. The doors were open and blood was trickling out into the corridor. The lights were flickering heavily in the operating room and body parts could be seen.

"Well? Do you see anything?"

The officer turned to his partner, a grave look on his face, shaking his head.

The glass shattered as something sharp shot through it and into the side of the policeman's head, coming out cleanly through the other side. The policeman's gun fell from his hands as his partner fell back, screaming while Chris and Jill drew their weapons.

"Kevin, get the doctor out of here!" Chris ordered.

The flesh-coloured spear began to curve at the tip and the body of the dead officer was pulled back at such a speed it burst through the door. As the body was dislodged from the spear and rolled aside, everyone saw what had caused all the commotion.

With a lance-like tongue as long as it's body that curved in the air, the monster looked at the people that were stood before it. It was very muscular and its skin looked as though it had completely come off. Sharp claws were in the place of hands and feet and it crawled forward as a panther would when stalking its prey. There was no mouth, only sharp teeth. It opened its jaw and let out a long, wheezy breath. Its brain was visible.

The officer closest to it, trembling with fear, started running toward Chris and Jill, screaming for help. He blocked their field of fire so they were unable to help as the monster let out a cry and leapt forward toward him. It grabbed the back of the officer's neck, pulling him to the ground as it fell back down. The monster pushed his head to the ground and lifted it up again. The officer stared helplessly at the others.

"Please help me!" he pleaded.

The monster forced his face to the floor, slamming it down with great force. There was a loud crushing sound as his face caved in and his skull shattered, sending blood everywhere.

Jill was the first to open fire, screaming at Kevin to get George out of there. The monster let out another cry and leapt forward toward them. Chris and Jill split up, going in opposite directions while Kevin pulled George to the ground, rolling them both under the soaring beast.

The monster had its sights set on Jill and it began chasing after her as she ran down the corridor away from it. Chris went after them both, firing on the beast when he was sure he would not hit Jill. He was able to land one or two shots. The monster let out a cry and jumped onto the left wall and continued to leap after Jill sideways as easily as if it were moving on the ground. When Chris continued to shoot at it, the beast went onto the ceiling and still kept chasing her at great speed. Jill shouted at Chris to help her.

The monster stuck out its tongue in an attempted to spear Jill but she was able to dodge it. Instead the tongue knocked over a nearby gurney, sending it into Chris and knocking him off his feet.

Jill turned a corner and came up to a set of double doors. As she tried to get through them she found that they were locked, sealed from when the area had been locked down earlier. She turned around and saw the monster approaching her on the ceiling. It let out a low wheeze and stuck its tongue out slightly. Saliva dripped from its jaw and blood fell from its claws. It dropped to the floor and began stalking toward her. Jill glanced to her right and saw a window. She could reach it but she knew that she was too high up and would not survive the fall if she jumped. There was a door to the left a little way between her and the monster. She would not be able to reach it before the monster did.

Determined not to go down without a fight, Jill lifted her Samurai Edge and began firing at the beast. It let out a cry and leapt forward, its claw ready to strike. As it was in mid-air, the door to Jill's left opened just as it was soaring past it, knocking the monster askew slightly. Jill used the opportunity and kicked the disoriented monster as it neared her, sending it toward her right. It hit the window, shattering the glass and landing on the frame, half of it in the building and half of it outside teetering slightly. Jill looked to Barry, who had just opened the door and smiled at him in appreciation before realising how much it had hurt kicking the monster.

Chris and Kevin ran around the corner and took in the scene. Before anything could be said Kevin immediately lifted his gun and began firing at the disabled beast, causing Jill to back away. The monster let out a cry and fell outside, falling three stories to the ground. It landed with a great thud. As the S.T.A.R.S. members peered out the window, the creature let out a loud cry before getting back up, to the shock of everyone else. With sudden freedom, it scurried away from the hospital with great speed and faded away into the darkness. Everyone looked at each other.

"What in the hell was that?" Barry asked.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>It was just after sunrise and Rebecca Chambers was parking her old yellow pickup truck into one of the free spaces just outside of the Raccoon City Police Department. After the engine was switched off she adjusted the rear-view mirror so that she could look at herself. She was a young, attractive girl with medium length brown hair that was slightly messy so she began to neaten it up. It was her first day so she wanted to do what she could to impress. Messy hair would surely work against her. However she was confident that the rest of her appearance was excellent. She wore a dark pant suit with a light pink blouse underneath as she had not been given her police uniform yet. When she was satisfied with her hair she winked at her reflection before pulling down the sun visor. There was a picture of her and an older man dressed in formal military attire, her Father. Rebecca kissed her hand and put it to the picture before flipping the visor away and stepping outside, grabbing her backpack on her way out.<p>

The first thing she noticed when she shut her door was the size of the police station. It was enormous, much bigger than she had expected. She had been interviewed for her job in a smaller police station across town meaning she was not prepared for what stood proudly before her.

It was clear that the precinct used to be a building of grand design and opulence before it was used for police business. The length of it was incredible; it seemed to go on forever. The architecture was slightly gothic and no doubt looked rather daunting at night. Rebecca looked up to the sky and nervously smiled.

"Wish me luck?"

She walked around her car, out of the parking lot and made her way through the outer courtyard. There were small lanes of quite pleasant flowers that ran alongside a path that went around the building, making Rebecca relax slightly as she went ahead before stopping in front of the elaborate main doors. Swallowing her nerves, Rebecca went ahead and pushed open the doors, stepping into the main hall.

It seemed to be even larger on the inside.

The main hall was huge with a statue of a woman pouring water in the centre. On the floor was an emblem of the R.P.D. shining valiantly upward. It was very busy with men and women rushing around with seemingly very little time to spare. Behind the statue was a large station with many officers sat behind computers. They were talking to the public, answering calls, logging data and handing files over to other officers who then hurried away, leaving the main lobby through one of the many doors and into the heart of the station. Rebecca glanced up and saw that there was a second floor with a balcony that ran around the perimeter of the room, allowing people to look down at her.

Not that they did, of course. They were too busy.

There was another floor above the second by the looks of it and Rebecca let out a low whistle as she took in the gravity of the sights. Here she was; alone in a new, big city with everything to prove. She was determined not to go wrong so the first step forward she took was a firm one.

As she moved forward she walked straight into a policeman who was rushing by her. He stumbled and dropped all of the folders that he was carrying.

"God damn it!" he moaned, kneeling down to pick them up without even glancing at Rebecca.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" she said, bending down to help him. She looked at his name tag.

"Its fine," Officer Ford said irritably, shaking his head as he collected the nearest folders into one uneven pile.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated "Really, I am. It's my first day today and I wanted to keep the screw-ups at a minimum. Looks like I can't get in the building without messing up."

David Ford glanced up at Rebecca, looking at her for the first time.

"You're new?"

"Rebecca Chambers," she held out her hand, which she realised was full of papers so she quickly swapped it for the other one. "I'm the new medic for S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team."

"David Ford," the officer took Rebecca's free hand and gave it a firm handshake. He was surprised to find that her grip was quite rigid as well. He stood up straight as he held Rebecca's hand, helping her up. She thanked him, smiling and handing over the papers that she had helped him both drop and retrieve. "You look… quite youthful to be a member of S.T.A.R.S."

"I guess," Rebecca shrugged. "Still they hired me so they must have seen something in me that overlooks my age."

"Well I'm sure you're going to make a welcome addition to the team," David smiled. "As long as you watch where you're going, of course." He gave her a playful wink and stepped around her, continuing on his way. Rebecca smiled as she watched the ageing police officer walk on and wondered if she would still be working here at that age. Not allowing herself to get lost in thought she moved over to the reception desk.

Rebecca introduced herself to Officer Marvin Barnagh behind the desk, telling him that she was a new member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team and providing her credentials as verification. After scanning through them, Marvin picked up the telephone and called her new boss, Enrico Marini. He handed her credentials back and told her to wait for a moment for Enrico to come downstairs to show her around. Rebecca thanked Marvin politely and took a few steps away from the desk so that he could attend to someone else.

Rebecca still could not get over the size of everything. She been in bigger buildings before in her life, she had attended Harvard University and some of those halls were enormous. However she was not at college for very long before she earned her degree in biochemistry and passing with flying colours. This place, this precinct felt more permanent, more stable. She could imagine getting used to coming in here every day.

Aimlessly ambling around the hall, Rebecca planned out a routine in her head that would hopefully soon be a customary part of her law enforcement career. She would walk in and grab some notices from Marvin at the front desk before heading to her desk somewhere deep inside the station. She would pass by David in the hall, exchanging some witty, friendly banter as she did so. She would comment on how they've not forced him into retirement yet and he would mention the sale that Wal-Mart is having on baby food. When she arrived at her work space all of her friends would announce her name fondly. The guy who had the crush on her, who Rebecca only considered to be a good friend, would bring her coffee and her tough but fair boss would berate her slightly for being late even though she was ten minutes early, making him slightly less fair. Then a case would come up and Rebecca would go to work with her slightly older, more experienced and ruggedly good looking partner. There would be sexual tension but nothing as much as a hug would be shared by them as they wanted to preserve their friendship, that is until that criminal, who got lucky, got the better of them after a few years on the force, kidnap them and hold them hostage, forcing the two to declare their feelings for each other, reaching in to kiss before they are interrupted by their comrades who turned up to rescue them. Rebecca was fond of this idea of a slightly clichéd, fantastical working environment and hoped that it would turn out that way.

She shook herself free from her musings and found herself in front of the statue that stood before the entrance of the main hall. She decided to concentrate on it to avoid drifting off into fantasy land again. Rebecca found herself admiring the pristine craftsmanship: it had clearly been made with great care and attention. She wondered what it symbolised. Perhaps a woman pouring water symbolised that the very essence, the life and blood of Raccoon City flowed within the police station. Maybe the tiny droplets of water symbolised the police officers who were chosen by God to serve and protect the city. Or maybe it was meaningless and just looked cool.

"You seem deep in thought," said Enrico Marini, suddenly appearing beside Rebecca, making her jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," Rebecca waved her hand hastily in dismissal and letting out a chuckle. "I was just looking at this interesting statue."

"Yes," Enrico glanced at the statue. "This one does provoke much discussion around the station. Most people think it's Chief Irons' way of showing everyone he's got more money than taste, but let's keep that between us." Rebecca chuckled again. She and Enrico had met before, during her interview in the other police station across town. They got on quite well and he obviously thought highly of her since he offered her the job a few days later, despite her young age. "You're right on time, that's a good start."

"Thank you," Rebecca said as she and Enrico started walking across the hall. He had long dark hair that parted in the middle and a thin moustache. He was tall and olive-skinned with a deep, comforting voice. He wore a light brown variant of the S.T.A.R.S. uniform. Rebecca felt relaxed in his presence.

"It's great to have you here, Rebecca. One of our guys recently transferred to Alpha team so we've been a man down for quite some time."

"I'm glad that I have a definite place," Rebecca said. "I wouldn't want to just be some annoying tagalong."

"On the contrary, we've been eagerly waiting for you. However the nature of our work is quite fast paced as you know so I'm just going to give you a quick run-down on everything just to make sure we're all square." Enrico opened a door, allowing Rebecca to go through first. They entered a busy corridor with many people, police and civilians, occupying the space. People were taking statements, getting drinks from vending machines or waiting around for some reason or another. Posters that displayed safe driving campaigns, health advice from Umbrella and advertisements for the police force decorated the otherwise bland walls.

"S.T.A.R.S. is an elite special forces division unique to Raccoon City. We get applications from all over the world so to say that you got the job over so many others is very high praise in itself, so you should be proud of yourself."

"Thank you, sir."

"Mayor Warren set S.T.A.R.S. up two years ago after the bombing at the city's annual Umbrella Appreciation Festival. With funding from the Umbrella Corporation and support from Chief Irons, S.T.A.R.S. was created by handpicking several highly accomplished former military personnel to combat terrorism and serious crime in Raccoon City."

"Is terrorism that much of an issue here?" Rebecca asked. "This city seems so… remote."

"Unfortunately it is," Enrico sighed. "Since our city was effectively built by the Umbrella Corporation, our prosperity is linked with them. We share all the good times with Umbrella and consequently all the bad. There are many groups that dislike Umbrella and there are others who disapprove of the idea of private firms becoming involved with state affairs so we are a target from a whole range of anti-establishment nut-jobs. Most of the hassle the city experiences are because people are trying to hurt the Umbrella Corporation. Because we are such a remote location, we don't have access to support as, say, a larger town near other major population centres. Raccoon City isn't as safe as you'd think."

"Well it's safer than most places," Rebecca said. "Because we're here." Enrico smiled and stopped at a set of double doors in the hallway labelled 'Staff Only'. He took her through into a large office. It was filled with detectives writing reports, making calls and performing interviews. They continued to walk and talk.

"I like your attitude," Enrico said. "It is true that levels of terrorism have dropped significantly in the city over the past few years thanks to us. We're so successful that other cities are in the planning stages of forming their own version of S.T.A.R.S., with Umbrella's support of course. S.T.A.R.S. is their baby, I guess. I'm sorry to have to go over all if this with you; I realise that you know most of what I am saying already and I don't want to sound patronising but I just want to make sure you know what the game is before you meet Chief Irons."

"You're taking her to Irons?" a young detective asked, glancing away from her computer screen. She looked Rebecca up and down and let out a whistle. "Damn, girl. Good luck!" Rebecca frowned at the detective as Enrico guided her through a door at the other side of the office, moving toward the fire escape.

"What did she mean by that?" Rebecca asked as she and Enrico stepped outside. He sighed and stopped for a moment.

"Chief Irons is known to be a little… quirky. Most of what people say is just old rumours and stories: the same you'd get in any workplace that has a tough boss. He is a slave driver and he'll make you work for your money."

"That's fine by me. I don't want to coast along here. I've got a job to do and I intend on doing it well."

"Excellent," Enrico started walking up the metal stairs to the second floor. "Still, don't let your guard down around Irons. He is somewhat of a sucker for the pretty ladies." Rebecca blushed slightly as she continued to follow Enrico. "You won't be dealing with him much anyway. I'm your immediate superior and you'll be working with me and the rest of Bravo team on most assignments. The team leader for S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team is a guy called Wesker and he's also the captain for the entire S.T.A.R.S. unit. He's a little anti-social but he's a good guy. He and Alpha currently involved in a case right now so you can meet him and the rest of the team later on."

Now on the second floor, Enrico and Rebecca went into a wooden corridor adorned with many exquisite paintings. As Enrico led her forward, he whispered in her ear "Irons likes his art a little too much. Whatever you do, don't touch anything you see that looks remotely arty." Going through another door and then one immediately after that, the two arrived in a small waiting room. A young woman slightly older than Rebecca was sat behind a desk. She smiled at the two as they entered.

"Would you let Chief Irons know that we're ready when he is, please?" The assistant picked up the phone and Rebecca noticed that she had incredibly large breasts.

"So what kind of cases do you guys work on?" Rebecca asked.

"Well right now Wesker's guys are looking into this incident at Raccoon General, no real details though. We don't usually work together on assignments unless they're big ones like counter-terrorism campaigns. In a typical week though we follow up leads on potential terrorist activity, help with search and rescue with missing people in the Arklay Mountains, provide tactical support for the SWAT team… all of it is standard fare for us. We're like Special Forces mixed with detective inspectors."

"That sounds… daunting." The relaxed feeling Rebecca had built up since she met Enrico started to wane slightly.

"Don't worry," Enrico chuckled. "There's no way I'm sending you out until I've got you properly trained." Rebecca smiled. The receptionist put the phone down and told them that Irons was ready for them.

Enrico led Rebecca out of the waiting room and down a narrow corridor toward the Chief's office. Stopping just short of the door, Enrico told her not to be nervous and knocked on the metal plate that read 'Brian Irons'.

"Come."

Enrico and Rebecca went inside and Brian Irons stood up from his desk, opening his arms welcomingly. His office, however, appeared to be not as welcoming as Irons was. There were stuffed animals all over the room, a moose head, an eagle, and a bear to name but a few. Everything was made of wood except for his chair, which was made of leather, real leather Rebecca assumed. Inside the cabinets were trophies, academic certificates and other various trinkets including what appeared to be some unusual medical-looking instruments that appeared to have been made in the eighteenth century. Rebecca noticed a diploma in one of the cabinets that indicated that Irons had attended Harvard just as she had, highlighting at least one thing that the two had in common. Rebecca never really cared for taxidermy; it made her feel weird.

Irons himself was a tall slightly portly man. He had receding brown hair and a thick moustache. He wore expensive dark pants, a white shirt with the top button undone and a red tie with a dark waistcoat on top of it all.

"Please take a seat, both of you. It is wonderful to finally meet you, Ms Chambers."

"It's a pleasure, sir."

Rebecca and Enrico took their seats with Irons still standing. He rested his hands on the side of his desk, leaning over to them. There was nothing but silence for a moment and as a result Rebecca felt incredibly uncomfortable as Irons stared at her. She was not quite sure what he was staring at but judging by his secretary outside, she supposed that he was not admiring the colour of her eyes.

"You have a lovely precinct," Rebecca said, breaking the silence. Irons held up his finger.

"Ms Chambers like many workplace institutions the Raccoon City Police Department has an established hierarchy. It is the existence of a hierarchy that makes the jobs we all do possible as people know exactly what to do and what their place is. Do you understand?"

"I think so." Irons lowered his hand.

"You are very young; anyone can tell that by simply looking at your delicate features. Due to your youth I will make exceptions for your slight ignorance of the importance of appropriate conduct in this environment. I will not, however, make these exceptions forever. You are new here and as such you are at the bottom of the hierarchy, not even a police officer. You will need to learn new rules and procedures quickly if you wish to survive here, one of the most important being you should know that you should speak only when spoken to. Do you understand?"

"I do," Rebecca said flatly. "May I say something?"

"Certainly," Irons said with a creepy smile. "You're a quick learner, I like that. We are blessed to have such an intelligent woman in our ranks who is also quite beautiful."

Rebecca chose to ignore that comment.

"Well sir, with respect, I'm not a police officer. That wasn't the job I've been hired for. I've been hired to fill in for the position of rear security along with being a medic for the Bravo team of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, the elite division that you yourself helped form to combat threats of such magnitude that they could not be dealt with by the regular police. I was chosen because of my unique expertise, specifically in biochemistry where I have a degree in the field, which will prove useful in special cases."

"I am aware of why you are here, Ms Chambers. Who do you think signed the approval forms to get you to join the S.T.A.R.S. family?" Irons spoke in a patronising tone. "I don't think you're appreciating your position within the organisation. Your place is substantially low so don't get any ideas that are above your station. Your job is to provide support. While 'medic' is your official title, I think you'll find most of the S.T.A.R.S. members are quite proficient in the art of first-aid so that will not be required too often. You're role in S.T.A.R.S. is purely one of support because I think that your knowledge in biochemistry would be unnecessary in most counter-terror operations."

"Not true sir, if I may…" Irons made a vague gesture meaning that it was alright for her to speak. "Given this town's unique relationship with the Umbrella Corporation, my knowledge could prove invaluable if a terrorist were to, for instance, steal chemicals or prototype drugs or substances from the company with the intent to harm. Also, Raccoon City's close proximity to the Arklay Mountains, which is famed for its multitudes of flora that can have dramatically different effects when exposed to the human body, would mean that a terrorist may, for example, attempt to use the local vegetation to poison the water supply. With my knowledge, appropriate action could be taken quickly during a situation where time is imperative. There is good reason for my being here, sir, otherwise your judgement would no doubt come under question as to why you hired me in the first place."

"You talk a big game, Ms Chambers, but ultimately talk is as meaningless as the degree you purchased from night school. What matters is action, the choices and decisions that you make. I chose to hire you because in this day and age scientific knowledge is apparently just as damaging as terror campaigns with explosives and conventional weaponry: so we need scientists to fight back with our counter-terror agents if we want to keep up. I have to say that the only reason I chose you is not because you had better qualifications than any of the other applicants but because you are much more pleasant on the eye than most of the chemists who applied."

Rebecca stood up from her chair with sudden ferociousness.

"Choices are important, sir. You've already chosen not to take me seriously. It's clear that you've decided that I am little more than some young airhead with very little value and no respectable place in your station. Well obviously I do have a place or I wouldn't already have got the job, which I got not for being hotter than the other applicants but by graduating from Harvard University, the same school you went to according to the diploma in the cabinet over there. If you don't like me, that's fine, but don't you dare judge me when I've only just walked through the door and when you yourself hired me. If you didn't want me then that was poor judgement on your part so don't take out your incompetence on me when all I want it to do is work and do a damned good job."

Irons moved around his desk and went right up close to Rebecca, staring menacingly at her. She forced herself to defiantly stand her ground, even though every part of her wanted to back away. Enrico got to his feet as Irons started to speak.

"I can see I'm going to have some fun with you," he hissed at her. Rebecca stood her ground, staring straight back at him. Enrico took her hand and cleared his throat. Irons' glance suddenly snapped over to him. "Yes, Enrico?" His tone suddenly changed to a pleasant, happier one.

"I was just going to say that since you two are now acquainted, maybe it'd be time for us to get to work?"

"Yes, yes, by all means!" Irons turned and went back to his chair. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms Chambers. I am sure you're going to succeed famously here at the R.P.D."

Rebecca remained silent as Enrico escorted her from the room, leaving Irons sitting alone in his chair, putting his hands together and smiling.

They walked quickly away from his office and down through the corridor.

"I can't imagine anyone talking to their boss like that on their first day," Enrico chuckled as they went past the door to the waiting room.

"What the hell was all that?" Rebecca tore her hand from Enrico's. His face fell.

"That's Irons," he sighed. "You probably won't ever have to deal with him again, that pleasure belongs to me and Wesker, thankfully mostly Wesker."

"But he was so rude and…" Rebecca was lost for words. "He was just so horrible!"

"That's Chief Brian Irons. Raccoon City is his city, or so he believes. He's a bit eccentric…"

"He's a psychopath!"

"But he's still our boss," Enrico continued. "And he hired you. No matter why you're here you're here because of him so he's obviously not that crazy."

"Did he hire me as the newest bimbo of the month?" Rebecca asked. "I have put so much on the line for this job. I've uprooted myself and moved from the only home I've ever had to come here, to a city hardly anyone on the planet has even heard of. I've brought a house, new furniture and am a new life. My whole life is contingent on this job and if I'm only here to be like one of his new statues that he'll get bored of in a week and then fire me then I am totally screwed!"

"Settle down!" Enrico gripped her shoulders. He gave Rebecca a little shake to snap her out of her pessimistic fears. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. As she calmed down, Enrico smiled warmly. "Your role here is secure for as long as you perform to expectations and considering how you graduated from Harvard I would have thought that you would be smart enough to realise that you are fully capable of doing so. Now then should we get you set up? You'll feel much more confident when you put your uniform on and get started with training."

Enrico took Rebecca to the equipment room, down the fire escape and through a door near the offices that led to the entrance to the basement. Rebecca was quiet as she went down the stairs and through the underground corridor past the generator, armoury and vehicle bay. Near the armoury was the S.T.A.R.S. equipment room, a small room with a handful of tall lockers. This was where Rebecca could get changed into her uniform. Her mind kept thinking about Brian Irons as she approached the equipment room with Enrico. What was the deal with that man? Something definitely did not seem right with him. She prayed that she would never cross paths with him again.

Enrico showed Rebecca to the equipment room, pointing out which one was her locker. She glanced at all the lockers that belonged to the other S.T.A.R.S. members before seeing her own, near the door.

"You'll meet them all later," Enrico chuckled, watching Rebecca scan the other lockers. He handed her the key for her own locker. "Get dressed and meet me at the firing range; two doors down, you can't miss it. I can't wait to see you try out the Samurai Edge!" He then left, leaving her on her own to change.

Rebecca attached her new key to her modest key ring, joining her car key and apartment key. She opened her locker and saw her uniform. It was hung up and wrapped in cellophane, brand new. She let out a breath as she looked at it, staring at the boots, trousers and pants slightly morosely. It all looked rather bland. She had been so excited about this job for ages but now after a few minutes with Brian Irons, things that she had been fondly looking forward to now appeared slightly disappointing. The fantastical view of what life with the R.P.D. had been shattered before she had even started. Rebecca closed the locker door and rested her back against it, letting out another breath as she thought about Irons. She slid to the ground and ran her hands over her face and through her hair.

She let out a faint sob and began crying quietly.

* * *

><p>A few floors up on the opposite side of the building there was a large office that was unique to the Raccoon City Police Department. It was more spacious than many of the other offices and was equipped with the resources that would usually be available to a small army, not a police force. State of the art communication technology, top of the line computers and highly sophisticated weapons all furnished the inner sanctum that belonged to the members of S.T.A.R.S. There was also a small refrigerator tucked away near the fax machine.<p>

The S.T.A.R.S. office was long and rectangular in shape with a desk at each end belonging to the team leaders. Wesker's was to the left and Enrico's was to the right forming the Alpha and Bravo side of the office. Spreading out from the leader's desks were the workspaces that belonged to the other team members. These spaces were decorated with various personal trinkets of the people that occupied them. Barry's had replicas of his Colt Anaconda intermingling with a computer screen and office supplies while Chris had a picture of him and his family, taken when he was very young. Jill's desk was remarkably bare.

Wesker was leaning against his desk, facing everyone else with his arms folded. His desk comprised of neatly stacked files and nothing more. Behind his desk was a large flag with the S.T.A.R.S. logo on it that occupied most of the back wall. There was a small photograph that featured eleven members of the S.T.A.R.S. team posing in front of a helicopter. With Rebecca Chambers' recent hire, that photograph was now out of date.

Every member of Alpha team was in the office, including Brad Vickers and Joseph Frost who had not been present at the hospital. Forest Speyer and Richard Aiken, from Bravo team, were there as well however they were busy with their own work and did not participate in Alpha's discussion about the events that had occurred at the hospital a few hours earlier.

However that did not stop them from listening in.

"It was freaky, guys," Chris told Joseph and Brad, the latter of the two looking slightly queasy. "I mean this thing looked as if it was inside out or something. I've never seen anything like it before in my life. You should have been there."

"It's not as if we were intentionally skipping out on work," Joseph said. "I mean: it's hard to get somewhere when you don't know the location or the time you're supposed to be there… and when you didn't even receive a call." His statement was directed at Wesker who said nothing in response.

"You can speak for yourself," Brad sighed. "I'm glad I didn't get put through all of that. Blood and guts aren't really my thing and from the sounds of things there was a lot of that."

"You're good at running away though," Jill said offhandedly. "We did a lot of that. There's a skill that would have come in useful."

"If I were there; I'd have taken the bogeyman down in one shot," Forest said from across the room, imitating firing a gun with his fingers. "That's why you need a sharpshooter like me on your team, Captain Wesker. I'd be there and pop your hostile right between the eyes before Brad gets a chance to scream and piss himself."

"Hey!" Brad protested.

"Oh lighten up, Vickers," Forest said. "You didn't need to be there to know you would have got scared." Wesker then spoke up.

"If you were there, Forest, you'd realise that is not something to joke about. You'd appreciate the fact that seven people are dead, two of them cops who died in front of our own eyes. Now unless you want to contribute something useful shut the hell up before you find yourself having to look for someplace else to work." Wesker's scalding silenced Forest and made the atmosphere of the room considerably dense. Wesker cleared his throat and looked to Chris, Jill and Barry. "Have the search teams found it yet?"

"No," Jill sighed. "We thought as the sun came up it would be easier to spot but maybe it's just afraid of sunlight or something. I dunno. We've not had any civilian reports of anything matching the monster's description so I'm assuming it's gone. It could be anywhere; an old building, underground in the sewer or it could have even made it to the mountains by now. Who can say?"

"It's probably in the sewers," Chris said. "That thing is something that no one would forget seeing easily. It must be underground because otherwise it would have been spotted."

"That means it could be anywhere by now," Joseph sighed dejectedly. "That'll make the search next to impossible."

"I'm not going into the sewer!" Barry said firmly.

"I don't relish the idea of sending anyone into a confined environment with that thing," Wesker said reassuringly. "Currently we have very few options."

"Did you manage to find anything on the hospital's security tapes?" Chris asked. "If we found out where it came from maybe we could…"

"You're wasting your breath," Wesker held up his hand. "Would you believe me if I said that they had no tapes because they don't have the facilities to record anything?"

"You're joking," Jill said.

"Amateurs…" Barry muttered.

"How the hell are we supposed to deal with this if we don't know where it came from?" Chris asked. "We've got to be able to trace it somehow. I mean it's not as if monster sightings are a regular occurrence in Raccoon City."

"I've got a question," Brad said suddenly. "When are we going to give him a name?"

"Give who a name?" Chris asked glancing around the room for a moment. "You mean the monster?"

"He's a person," Brad said. "He's an unidentified person, yes, but still a person."

"He was a person," Jill said. "'_Was_' being the operative word, here. We have no idea who he is, what he's like or where he lives or works. He's just someone who was thrown from the back of a van, a van we can't trace. In the simplest of terms, from what we can gather, a patient entered that operating room and a monster came out after transforming somehow. He was a person but after doing what he did to those people; it's safe to say he's far from human."

"You guys know how ridiculous this sounds, right?" Forest looked up at them from his work. "I'm not trying to sound like a smartass, but it does sound absurd. Listen to what you're saying! We've got a shape shifting demon prowling the streets with claws as sharp as a knife's edge and a tongue as long as a limousine. I mean… no creature like that exists! It's impossible. This whole thing is impossible."

"You watch it kill some cops with its tongue and then say it's impossible," Barry said.

"If it kills with its tongue then why don't you call it a 'Licker'?"

There was silence for a moment with everyone immobile. Forest looked slightly surprised at them.

"I wasn't being serious."

"We need to find this Licker before it does any more harm," Wesker said. "The Umbrella festival is tonight and Murphy's Law means that that will be the time it decides to make an appearance."

Jill's cell phone started to vibrate on her desk. She lifted it up and saw that it was Peter calling. She sighed and slid it into her pocket.

"I need to report to Irons about this latest development so that we can justify beefing up security for the festival. All of you cancel your evening plans; no one has a social life until this monster is incapacitated. The best way that we can do this is to come at the problem from all angles. Brad; you seem to have empathy for this monstrosity; see if you can't find out the identity of Hyde's Jekyll. Find the man underneath the monster. Jill, Barry, I want you two to brief the other departments about this creature and impress the importance of how extreme caution must be taken. Joseph, see if you can trace the van's route using footage from security cameras all over the city. If you work from the hospital backward you may get lucky. Chris; research the Licker. See if you can find any creature in the animal kingdom that is remotely like it to see if we can find some defence against it."

Wesker paused for a moment, stepping away from his desk.

"I'll organise extra security for the festival with Irons. Are there any questions?"

There were none.

"Good. Let's get to work people."

Wesker, Brad and Joseph left all at once. Jill remained seated as Barry began planning what to do in his head. Jill remembered that her phone rang earlier and she went into her pocket to retrieve it. She saw that she had one missed call and a text message, both from Peter. Jill felt slightly disappointed but at the same time rather relieved as she read Peter's message written in crude SMS language. The message read that a problem had come up at work and that he would have to cancel going to the festival with her tonight.

Jill was disappointed that he had cancelled. What kind of pharmacological emergency could there be to warrant him cancelling his evening plans? Whatever his reasons were however, Jill realised that she would have probably ended up cancelling on him anyway if he had not beaten her to it. It was doubtful this mess would be wrapped up before the festival later on. She sent a reply message saying that it was okay and that something had come up at work for her, too. She sent her message with perfect spelling and grammar.

Putting her phone away in a desk drawer she tapped her fingers on the top of the table for a moment, contemplating how she would go about carrying out Wesker's instructions. As Barry was still collecting his thoughts, she looked to Chris who looked confused.

"What's your plan for finding out about this thing, then?"

"I've got no idea," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. He glanced over to Forest and Richard who were still working hard. "What are you guys working on?"

"A former marine is being transferred through Raccoon City in a few months on the way to death row," Richard explained. "We're working out routes so that the transition can be as smooth as possible."

"You asking for help?" Forest smiled cheekily. "It's okay if you are, Redfield. I am your superior in every possible way."

"I wouldn't ask you to piss on me if I was on fire," Chris joked. Forest laughed, sitting back in his chair. He looked to Richard to share in the laugh but he had his head down and was not paying attention. Forest sighed and looked back to Chris and Jill, the latter of the two getting up and shaking her head.

"In all seriousness though," Forest said, "the new hire that we got is some hot savant teenager they plucked straight from college. Her field's in biochemistry I think. She could be the girl to go to if you want to find out where your Licker came from."

Chris smiled at Forest and thanked him in his own unique way.

"Trust you to know potentially case solving information about the hot teenage hire."

"Hey she's eighteen and there's nothing wrong with that! I expect royalties every time you use the phrase 'Licker', on a side note. I need some money to wine and dine her."

Jill opened the door, letting Barry leave first.

"You're a pig," she said light-heartedly to Forest as she left.

"You've got my number, Valentine!" Forest shouted after her before looking back to Chris. "Anyway Enrico told me that he was gonna see how she was with a gun before bringing her up here to sign some stuff and get started with real work. If you want to see how much she knows about the Licker then she'll be in the basement."

"Thanks, man. I owe you." Chris got to his feet and went for the door before stopping and turning to Forest. "You know that you won't get royalties every time you say 'Licker', right?"

"You just said it then, my man," Forest grinned. "Pay up."

Chris chuckled and left without saying another word leaving Forest and Richard alone. He looked to Richard.

"He didn't pay me. Can you believe that?"

"Forest you're a moron," Richard said, standing up to collect something from the printer.

* * *

><p><strong>ARKLAY MOUNTAINS<strong>

* * *

><p>The Arklay Mountains on the outskirts of Raccoon City was an enormous mountain range that was densely covered in thick vegetation. Tall hardwood pine trees made the ranges look bigger and taller, giving the area a grand, isolated feel. They were packed so closely together it was almost impossible to get through them in some areas, heightening the feeling of isolation. In the day the ranges looked quite beautiful. However at night a dense mist descended on the trees making it almost impossible to see anything even in the clearer areas. The mountains were popular with hikers and campers yet some areas had been mostly neglected by tourists.<p>

Hidden deep within the shelter of luscious trees was a large chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Tourists never came this deep into the forest. Signs on the fence informed that those who trespassed would be shot without hesitation. Through the metal chain links lay even more thick undergrowth and there appeared to be nothing that required segregation from the rest of the forest. It was only after going even deeper that a small cabin could be seen neatly hidden between trees and bushes.

Inside the cabin there was nothing special; a common area with a stove, worktop and tables. Bookshelves and chairs could be seen along with old oil lanterns that had probably not been used in a while. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Footprints in the dust led from the front door, through the common area and over a lumpy rug to the only other door in the cabin that led to a bedroom. There was no dusty floor in this room; only a small bed and a walk in wardrobe. This wardrobe did not hold any clothes. Instead of a floor there were stairs that went down underground.

A little way down the stairs flattened out forming a small, dimly lit passageway. At the end was a set of elevator doors. There was only one way to go: down. Deep down the elevator went, stopping at its only floor. Beyond the doors was a sight that was so out of place in the middle of the mountains.

It was a long corridor with floors made out of metal catwalks. Thick pipes ran along the ceiling, breaking away from the corridor and going off into different rooms. The doors were electronic and automatic with different number, letter and colour symbols written on them. There was a clanging sound down the echoed corridor as a man was walking through it.

He was tall, gaunt looking with neat fair hair. He wore a white laboratory coat that rustled with each powerful step he took. He was a man with a look of anger in his eye. He turned at one door and walked through it, stepping into a small room.

The room looked like a modest computer lab with numerous monitors dotted around lining the walls and decorating the work benches. A middle-aged man and a young woman were occupying the room, looking at a monitor with great interest. It was displaying images of the Licker in the halls of Raccoon General Hospital.

"Dr Birkin," the middle-aged main spoke in a light tone without looking away from the monitor. "To what do we owe the incredible honour of one of the organisations greatest scientists gracing us with his presence?"

"Don't get cute, Jaeger," Birkin said. "What you've done is absolutely unforgivable."

"Oh my," Jaeger said with mock upset, glancing away from the monitor. "Unforgivable you say? Well if I've done something wrong I'd happily offer my resignation to ensure I would not hinder operations any further... At least I would do that if I wasn't so important to them. Do you remember what that felt like, Birkin?"

The young woman supressed a chuckle.

"Why the hell is that running around a hospital?" Birkin snapped Jaeger out of his rant, pointing to the Licker on the screen. "Why is it there?"

"It was there because Dr Suzuki and I put it there," Jaeger nodded to the young woman he was sat with, Yoko Suzuki. "Anyway there's no need to worry; it's not in the hospital anymore; God knows where it is."

"Why the hell have you done this?" Birkin asked, becoming increasingly agitated. He gestured to Yoko. "I know it was you two who dumped the B.O.W. right in the middle of the city."

"Majestic, isn't it?" Jaeger said, resting his hand on his face. "It truly is a vision of beauty, gracing the presence of all who witness it."

"It shouldn't have any witnesses at all!" Birkin shouted. "What you've done could destroy everything we've been trying to accomplish. Are you stupid or just irresponsible?"

"Yoko," Jaeger looked away from Birkin. "Would you be a dear and deliver our report? Thank you."

Yoko stood up, pulled a memory stick from the computer and left the room, still trying to supress a smile. Jaeger turned off the monitor and got to his feet. He was slightly older than Birkin and had not aged well. Signs of stress such as wrinkles and loss of hair colour were clearly visible. He was shorter than Birkin but stood tall nonetheless.

"Would you care to voice your concerns?"

"My concerns?" Birkin repeated with a laugh. "Dr Jaeger I have no idea where to begin. You and Suzuki released a live B.O.W. into the general population as it was undergoing mutation. What the hell possessed you, Jaeger? What was going through your head at the time that made you think that this was a good idea? Do you have any idea what the reaction from S.T.A.R.S. is? They've seen a creature that is impossible to comprehend and frighteningly dangerous. They've started digging. It's only a matter of time before one of the more diligent members digs up some evidence and shines light on us, despite our best interference efforts. When we are exposed it'll be your fault! I hope that's worth getting your experiment a little screen time."

"I don't think S.T.A.R.S. will get that far ahead with one of their own working against them," Jaeger said in a superior tone. "As for evidence; the only physical evidence of the B.O.W.'s existence is in these tapes that we acquired from the hospital before S.T.A.R.S. got wind of it. The B.O.W. is out of sight so there's nothing for S.T.A.R.S. or anyone else for that matter to dig up. Don't worry, Birkin. You, your legacy; everything is safe."

"But for how much longer?"

"Oh come, now. What do you mean?"

"As you say; the B.O.W. is missing. It's running around in the streets somewhere and you, I and S.T.A.R.S. know what it is capable of. Why on earth did you release it in the first place?"

"The safe environment of the womb can only sustain a child for so long," Jaeger spoke rather distantly. "Eventually it has to be born into the world."

"Cut the crap! We've had enough near misses at the estate as it is without you bringing further problems to the table. Releasing that B.O.W. was beyond dangerous. Putting aside the fact you could have compromised everything it could spread infection across the city and we'll have more of these things popping up."

"Call the countermeasure service in," Jaeger suggested. "That's what they're there for."

"I already have," Birkin said.

"That's good. This will be a chance to test their mettle, too. Sergei is a little too big for his boots, I find."

"That's a bit rich," Birkin muttered.

"I just want to make sure they know what they're doing."

"I will make sure that Sergei knows that this is all your doing, Jaeger. After all, we've got the tapes to prove it all right there. If everything goes to hell I will show them your home movies and then we'll see if you maintain your cocksure attitude."

"Birkin I have work to do," Jaeger sighed, seemingly disinterested. "I'm sure you've got other things to work on, too, for example taking back that young lab assistant I stole from you. I'm pretty sure you came all this way just to whine so if there's nothing else…"

Birkin gave Jaeger the dirtiest look he had ever given someone before leaving the room with great haste. Jaeger looked back at the monitor and turned it on as if nothing ever happened. He smiled as he watched the Licker smash a policeman's head against the floor, killing him.

It felt good to see that his work was so successful.

* * *

><p>There was an office inside the Raccoon City Police Department that was not unlike any other office in any other police precinct in the world. Rows and rows of desks were neatly placed together and the uneven stacks of paperwork intermingled with computers and personal effects were clear signs that they were being used as fully as possible. At the front of the room were lockers and filing cabinets that stood near the public relations desks where citizens could come in and talk to an officer about whatever issue they felt needed addressing without actually stepping into the crowded office. It was usually very loud and very busy.<p>

However right now it was different. Toward the back of the room past the supervisor's office and next to the evidence storage room stood Jill and Barry. They had gathered as many uniformed officers as they could. The room was far more crowded than usual. A sea of blue was before the two S.T.A.R.S. members as every seat in the room was taken and every spare spot to stand in was occupied. Kevin Ryman was leaning against one of the windows that separated the main work space from the supervisor's office. His arms were folded as he casually stood there waiting for the S.T.A.R.S. announcement.

"Thank you all for assembling on such short notice," Jill began. "We won't take too much of your time. We just want to make you aware of a recent development that may affect the policing of the festival tonight."

"In short; a wild animal is on the loose," Barry said. Kevin's eyes narrowed. "We've not been able to identify it as of yet but working with the information that we have we believe it to be quite big, strong and aggressive."

"With the festival coming up we think there is cause for concern. Dangerous animals and big crowds haven't been known to mix that successfully."

"It has dark red, slippery skin with very sharp claws. It moves like a panther so we're working under the assumption that it is a panther or a similar sort of animal that has had its fur torn off for whatever reason. If you see it; shoot it. It'd be hard to mistake it for any other living creature so if you see it; shoot it. If in doubt; shoot. I can't stress this enough. Shoot the damn thing, it's not a kitty."

"All this for a wild animal?" said one young officer. "Shouldn't animal control be handling this?"

"As we said; it is deadly," said Jill. "Animal control would have been called in if it wasn't as vicious as it is. We don't want to bring it in alive; it's a deranged animal that needs to be put down. The safety of people always comes before the safety of an animal."

"If you spot it, call it in and shoot the damn thing before it gets away. That's all there is to it. Chief Irons will be assigning more units to police the festival tonight; let's make sure we keep everything tight. Now then are there any other questions?"

Kevin Ryman lifted his hand. As soon as Barry saw it he felt nervous.

"Could you give a better description of the… animal?" His tone was sly.

Barry's eyes narrowed at the question.

"We're working with what witnesses have reported," Jill said quickly. "All of the witnesses gave a similar description which we have given to you."

"I have a doctor right outside though," Kevin went on. "Doctor George Hamilton claims to have seen the animal you're vaguely describing and he's offered a description that is slightly more… well, descriptive."

"Ryman, we'll talk about that in a moment," Barry said aggressively. "Any more questions?"

There were none.

"Good. You're dismissed." As everyone began to disperse Barry gestured Kevin to come over. "I'll handle it," he said to Jill. "You go talk to the detectives." As Kevin stepped over Barry grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the dark evidence storage room. Jill watched for a moment as Kevin was dragged away before brushing her hair from her face and leaving.

The evidence storage room was a modest room with several rows of lockboxes that required a four digit code to open. Barry quickly glanced down the rows to make sure that he and Kevin were alone.

"What the hell is your problem?" he asked Kevin in a hostile manner.

"Me?" Kevin had the look of a petulant child on his face. "I should be asking you that! Where do you get off giving the entire police force the wrong information?"

"It's not incorrect," said Barry. "It's just slightly vague. We decided that it would be for the best to keep the explicit details to ourselves."

"I guess I missed that memo," Kevin huffed. "You're sending all those cops out there without a God damn clue about what they're letting themselves in for."

"We told them to shoot first and ask questions later," Barry said. "We made them aware that there is something out there we just didn't specify how horrible it was."

"Well maybe you should have."

"That would have been a bad idea."

"I can't see how full disclosure is a bad idea," Kevin held his hands up. "The truth is the best weapon out there. My Mother always told me to tell the truth."

"Yes but your Mother didn't see this monster up close," Barry hissed, becoming angrier with every word he spoke. "Your Mother didn't have to make life or death decisions every day she just wanted to raise a good son."

"If we keep those officers in the dark then we are bad people," Kevin sighed. "If I were a member of S.T.A.R.S…."

"But you're not, Kevin!" Barry shouted. "You are not a member of S.T.A.R.S. because you fail the selection process every God damn time you try! Have you never wondered why that is? You're too immature; you can't think ahead and you can't accept things that you do not agree with. You're not S.T.A.R.S. material. You never will be and your attitude right now is proof of that."

Kevin had a glaring look on his face. Barry could not tell if he was angry or upset but he felt disappointed in himself that he had lost control of his temper.

"I'm sorry," Barry started but Kevin shook his head.

"It's fine. It's true, everything you said… I mean if it wasn't I would've been selected by now, right?"

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Look, kid," Barry sighed, stepping away from Kevin. "I used to be in the Air Force with Redfield. Did you know that?" Kevin shrugged. "Well I was. We became good friends just like that," he clicked his fingers.

"We just got on like a house on fire. Chris was very different to me in the Air Force, he was sort of a rouge; he did an amazing job but he always had to do things his way. I was probably quite stiff and a stickler for the rules. We were both talented soldiers and damned good pilots yet we didn't really seem to get anywhere. After a few years together we hardly developed our careers at all. Chris was too set in his ways of being a maverick which is what held him back whereas I was too set in my ways of being what I guess you could call a robot. I tried to learn from Chris to not be so uptight so when S.T.A.R.S. was first formed I joined and flourished while Chris remained in the Air Force until he was kicked out."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that if you want to be a member of S.T.A.R.S. you gotta be more than what you are; you've got to want to better yourself. To do that you need to learn from other people. Listen to them. Take what they say to heart. You need to be flexible. Do you understand?"

Kevin shrugged.

"Look; if we fully disclose what happened with what we're calling the Licker one of two things will happen. Either we'll be laughed at or thought of as crazy meaning we won't be taken seriously and that people won't be on their guard, resulting in more people getting hurt. On the flip side if people take us seriously they could possibly panic at the fact we've got some demon monster killing people in the city. People will most likely get hurt then, too. This way is the best way."

"I think you'll find that people are more reliable than you'd think," Kevin said. Barry smiled at him, patting him on the shoulder.

"Why don't you prove it to me? Prove to me that you could be a reliable member of S.T.A.R.S. Keep the secret and see how things play out. What do you say?"

Kevin shrugged and nodded.

"Good," said Barry. "Now I want you to take the doctor home; he's been through enough today don't you think?"

"Why do you want me to do it?"

"Because you're just like Chris Redfield when he was in the military."

"What?" Kevin frowned.

"He needed me to help him get into S.T.A.R.S. and I think you're going to need me, too."

Kevin sighed but nodded.

"I'll go take him home now."

"That's good," Barry said as Kevin turned to go to the door. "I'm sorry for losing my temper."

"I'm sorry for being like Chris Redfield."

Kevin and Barry shared a smile before Kevin left to take George home.

* * *

><p>Rebecca Chambers' forehead was damp with sweat. She was fully dressed in her S.T.A.R.S. uniform of a green shirt, green combat pants, dark boots and black fingerless gloves. She wore a white Kevlar vest that had the Red Cross logo on the back. She was breathing heavily as she stared straight ahead. Spent ammo casings were by her feet and her gun was pointing at a target a fair distance away in the underground firing range. She was doing everything that she could to prevent her hands from trembling. The sheer weight of the Samurai Edge was quite something. Each time she pulled the trigger the power that the weapon displayed was enough to knock her back slightly. Enrico was stood behind her, watching her shoot at the target with his arms folded.<p>

So far she had not hit the target once.

Rebecca placed her gun down on the table out of frustration and removed her ear defenders. Enrico did the same, taking a step toward her.

"You okay?"

"I'm just not getting it," Rebecca said exasperatedly. "It looks like you've let a blind person have a try."

"No one is born a great shot, Rebecca. Forest would no doubt tell you otherwise but it is a skill that you can learn; it just takes time."

"I dunno," Rebecca sighed. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. I mean how much time can you spend making me shoot straight?"

"Well you can shoot straight," Enrico said. "You just can't shoot straight ahead." He let out a chuckle but saw that his attempt to lighten the mood had done nothing. "You've only been trying for half an hour. It's probably just nerves. I remember the first time I fired a gun; I literally peed in my pants."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I was ten, though. I managed to get into my Father's cabinet and accidentally fired it. The bullet went straight out the window and hit a neighbour's dog… Man did they sue."

"So the first time you ever fired a gun was when you were ten, you didn't know what you were doing, it was a mistake and yet you still managed to hit something?"

"I guess I'm not helping much, am I?"

"Sorry," Rebecca said sheepishly. Enrico waved his hand.

"You weren't hired to shoot at things. You were hired because you're super smart and we need you here; Captain Wesker himself insisted that we get a scientist of your calibre on the team."

"I feel that if I can't shoot at something that I'd be a bit useless."

"As I said; you weren't hired to shoot things. You're here to back us up against biological threats."

"I can't see that happening much in Raccoon City," Rebecca sighed. She leant against the side of the table. Irons had severely affected her confidence. "Captain I think that… I think that me being hired was a mistake. I really want this job; I want it more than anything but if I can't back up my team then someone's going to get killed and I don't want that to happen."

"You've been in this building for less than two hours," Enrico smiled. "I'm not going to bury you before you're dead. There'll be lots for you to do before you're ready to go out into the field."

"If you say so," Rebecca shrugged. "To tell you the truth, Captain, I don't have a lot of confidence that that will happen."

The door to the firing range suddenly burst open and Chris Redfield stepped inside. He nodded at Enrico before looking to Rebecca.

"Rebecca Chambers?"

"Yeah…"

"Chris Redfield," he introduced himself. "Come with me. I'm in need of your talents."

Enrico and Rebecca exchanged silent glances. He began grinning at her.

* * *

><p>Kevin was driving George home in a police car. George was sat in the front with Kevin glancing vacantly out of the window. He looked dreadful which was understandable considering the night he had.<p>

The journey was taking longer than Kevin had anticipated due to the Umbrella Appreciation Festival's preparations. In a few hours the streets would soon be filled with people who would watch the parades and have fun at the fairs. Kevin suspected that George would not be one of those people.

"Is there anyone you can call?" Kevin asked, breaking the silence that had been with them since they left the precinct.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, do you have anyone you could come stay with you or something?" George looked over at Kevin.

"Do you think that I am in danger?"

"No, not at all!" he said hastily. "I don't think what we saw is capable of…" Kevin trailed off realising his tone was too matter-of-fact. "I was just saying that… you know, you've been through a lot. I was wondering if you had anyone you could call to stay with you or talk to?"

"I can't tell anyone about this, not really. Not unless I want S.T.A.R.S. knocking on my door. I doubt anyone would believe me anyway. Did you believe me when I was giving you my statement before you saw the thing in front of you?"

Kevin remained silent.

"That's what I thought," George looked back outside. "I'm surprised the police even showed up at all in all honesty. I was expecting… I dunno. I wasn't expecting the whole place to be locked down as quick as it was. I'm glad, though, don't get me wrong. You guys probably saved a lot of lives."

"Surely you have some friends who could help you take your mind off things?" Kevin looked to George sympathetically. "It can't be healthy to keep thinking about this too much."

"Son, I've been a doctor for almost twenty years: health is my business. I got to where I am today not by trying to keep healthy or by making friends; I got here by being solitary and career driven. The only person who really got to know me was my ex-wife, who only bothered to get intimate with my bank account. She took off with the kids when I had made enough money for her to play the 'let's-get-the-not-so-rich-anymore-doctor-to-pay-for-the-most-expensive-apartment-in-New York' game. Being alone is my thing, I guess. Even with the family I was never in good company."

Kevin was unsure of what to say in response. He was not sure what could be said in response to that. George sighed and looked at him once again.

"I'm sorry, kid. I know that you're only trying to do the right thing and help and I appreciate it, really. But my divorce and all of this stuff that has happened has made me realise that I've wasted my life. I mean in the end what does a successful career equate to when you're alone? Sure I helped people but I was part of a healthcare system that forced them to pay through the nose for that help. Even when I moved here, joined Umbrella's medical teams and worked pro bono on their employees I still felt that my life was empty, wasted and meaningless. Those six medical technicians who died today had their whole lives ahead of them and they had to die in such a horrible, meaningless way." Kevin glanced over at George. "It should have been me…" He sighed and spotted something on the road. "You can pull over here."

Kevin pulled the car over to the side of the road. They stopped just short of a warm looking but slightly dark establishment. J's Bar had large windows that allowed people to see inside. There were several booths, a large bar and a small recreation area with a pool table. The floor was wooden and the general décor looked slightly rustic.

"Thanks for the lift," George hastily stepped out of the car.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I live a few blocks away, I'll be fine." George smiled at Kevin. "Thanks for the lift." He shut the door. George walked over to the entrance to the bar, pausing for a moment as he contemplated stepping inside. He made a step forward and went through.

Kevin waited there for a moment as he thought about what George had said. He then reversed the car and hastily sped away. George watched him go through one of the large windows and took a seat at the bar. The place was quite busy due to the festival and there was quite a noise inside. The bartender came up to George.

"What'll it be?"

"Whiskey," George said. The bartender opened a new bottle and poured a little into a shallow glass tumbler. As he handed over the glass, George put his hand up.

"You may want to leave the bottle."

* * *

><p>"You're sure that it was the same guy?" Rebecca asked as Chris opened the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office for her. He let her go inside followed by Enrico, who wanted to tag along. Rebecca was taken aback by the size of the office. As she looked around at the surroundings she barely noticed Forest and Richard who were still working at their desks. Forest got to his feet and tapped Richard's arm to grab his attention.<p>

"Rebecca Chambers, this is Forest Speyer and Richard Aiken," Enrico said, shooting Forest a scathing look to tell him not to act like an idiot. Forest acted as if Enrico were not in the room.

"Nice to meet you," Richard smiled, gently shaking Rebecca's hand. Forest practically pushed him out of the way to get in front of her.

"Enchanted," Forest said, putting on a sophisticated accent. He took her hand and kissed it, causing Rebecca to blush.

"This guy's a total idiot," Chris told her. "I feel sorry for you that you have to work with him."

"I'm sure I'll manage," Rebecca said, pulling her hand away from Forest and clearing her throat. She looked over at Richard and the two exchanged pleasant smiles.

"Back to work, you two," Enrico said, clapping his hands. "The grownups here have got important work to do."

"Is this about the Licker?" Forest asked. "Remember that I deserve royalties!"

"You deserve something alright," Enrico muttered, ushering him back to work with vague gestures. "Rebecca your desk is totally blank at the moment; we're getting equipment for you shortly."

"That's cool, she can work at mine," Chris said, offering Rebecca the chair at his desk. Forest whistled at him as he pulled the chair out for her and Chris responded by sticking his middle finger up at him.

"As I was saying," Rebecca went on, oblivious to Forest, "are you sure that it was the patient mutated into the, uh, Licker?"

"Ka-ching," Forest muttered.

"That's what the only witness said," Chris nodded, leaning against Jill's desk. "He said that one minute the guy was a patient and the next he was something else."

"Even if we do identify what sort of animal this Licker is it still won't explain how it transformed into what it is from a human being. I'm fairly sure that's not even possible."

"To be honest I don't really care about if it is possible or not; I just want to know how to kill it. I swear I sunk a few bullets into it and it just kept running like I had hit it with peas."

"Maybe you're just a lousy shot," Forest commented. Enrico threw a crumpled up ball of paper at his head to get him to focus.

"If you're sure you hit it then its skin must be incredibly tough, despite looking so transparent," Rebecca theorised. "I can't think of many humanoid species with a tough, flesh-coloured dermis that can crawl along walls and pierce people with its tongue. I think it may be a hybrid creature."

Forest, Richard and Enrico looked up from their desks upon hearing her hypothesis, sharing Chris' look of scepticism.

"A hybrid," Forest repeated. "Seriously?" Rebecca turned to face him.

"Are you telling me that it is easier to believe a man mutated into a monster than it is to believe that the monster is some sort of hybrid creation? That's where you draw the line at implausibility?"

"Good point," Richard said.

"Ah, but I don't believe that a man turned into a Licker," Forest said. "I think that some sort of wild animal somehow got loose into the hospital."

"Regardless of how it came to be I can't determine what animal it is based on the description," Rebecca continued. "None of its characteristics match those of any one animal; it matches several, which lead me to suggest the hybrid theory."

The door opened and Jill and Barry walked in carrying plastic bags that held their lunch. They stopped as they saw Rebecca in Chris' chair.

"Rebecca Chambers, this is Jill Valentine and Barry Burton," Enrico introduced them. Jill smiled and shook Rebecca's hand.

"Nice to see another girl on the force," she winked at her.

"You're obviously not considering Brad," Forest commented as Barry took Rebecca's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," Barry said, ignoring Forest's jibe. He moved with Jill to the briefing table in the centre of the room to eat their lunch. Jill had purchased a chicken and sweet corn baguette from the cafeteria while Barry had chosen a BLT sandwich.

"So what are you guys up to?" Jill asked as she took a seat, looking at Chris. "Giving the young lady the ten dollar tour?"

"Not really," Rebecca shrugged. "We're talking about something that'll probably make you lose your lunch."

"Oh the Licker?" Barry said as he unwrapped his sandwich. "Don't worry about us; Jill and I have strong stomachs."

"You've got to if you want to work closely with Forest," Jill added, shooting him a playful wink. He stuck his tongue out in response.

"Chris and I've seen worse stuff than that in the Air Force, anyways. There was this one time where…"

"Why don't we leave the war stories to ourselves for now, eh Barry?" said Chris. "We're trying to identify what kind of animal this creature is."

"Surely you'd do that better if the computers were turned on?" Jill said before she took a bite out of her baguette.

"I'm not really sure what I can do to search for it," Chris said. "I can't exactly type 'Licker' into Google. Think of all of the nasty stuff that'll come up!"

"None of that on police time," Enrico warned.

"There are online databases," Rebecca said. "I know a compendium where they let you type in the features of an animal and it comes up with the closest matches. That might be a good place to look."

"Let's try it!" Chris said. "May I sit down?"

Rebecca hopped out of Chris' seat as he got behind the computer. He logged on and Rebecca told him what website to go to.

"Did you even try researching this thing yourself?" Forest asked. Jill screwed up her plastic bag into a ball and threw it at him to shut him up. "Why do people keep doing that?"

On the website, Chris typed in the Licker's various characteristics and then clicked search. It didn't take too long for the results to come back.

'No matches found.'

"Well I'm out of ideas," Rebecca shrugged.

"Don't feel too bad; I wouldn't have thought the details of a previous unseen creature would float around on the net, anyway," Barry said as he prepared to take the first bite out of his sandwich. As he lifted the bread to his mouth, the phone at his desk started to ring. He let out a dejected sigh and placed it back down on the paper, standing up to answer the call. 'Burton."

"It's Kevin Ryman," said Kevin as he drove the car around the people setting up festival stalls in the streets. "I just want to confirm something."

Barry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Where are you, Kevin?"

"I'm driving back to the precinct now."

"If you're heading back here then couldn't this have waited?"

"Yeah," Forest said in a whisper. "We all know how important sandwich time is to Barry." Barry screwed up a piece of scrap paper on his desk and threw it at Forest.

"It could have waited but it's quite important," Kevin said.

"Go ahead…"

"How many people were killed by the, uh… by the Licker?"

"Seven," Barry said, looking to Chris. "Were there seven victims? Yeah? Yes, there were seven; five nurses and two cops. Why?"

"Because I was talking to Hamilton as I drove him home and he said that 'those six medical technicians had their whole lives ahead of them.' Did you hear that? Six! Two of the people killed were cops but if six technicians died on top of that then that would mean we'd have eight confirmed dead, not seven."

"My God you're right," Barry said, his tone attracting glances from everyone in the room.

"We've got a potential witness running around out there," Kevin said.

"Or a suspect… Good call, Kevin. Thanks for telling me right away."

"Yeah, that's fine. I was thinking…"

Barry hung up the phone as Kevin started speaking again.

"Bring up a list of all of the medical staff who were on duty last night at Raccoon General," Barry told Chris.

"Why?" he asked.

"We've got a missing nurse out there," Barry said as he stood behind Chris, watching the screen. Jill got to her feet, putting her baguette on the table.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Barry told her what Kevin had told him.

"The witness said to Kevin that the six people who died had their whole lives ahead of them or something like that but we didn't identify six bodies in the operating room; we only counted five. Somewhere out there is a person who walked out of that operating room alive."

"How could we have missed that?"

"The bodies were torn to shreds," Chris said. "Forensics are still doing an inventory on all of the… parts. We only identified people using their ID badges."

On the computer he brought up a list of all of the people who were working that night in the hospital. It was extensive.

"Select all of the people who were working on the third floor," Barry instructed. Jill joined him in looking at Chris' screen. Rebecca leant forward eagerly. A list of seven people came up.

"Take away Doctor Hamilton's name and the names of all of the confirmed victims," Jill said. Enrico, Forest and Richard all looked up in anticipation.

One name remained.

"Chad Elliott," Jill said out loud, pointing excitedly at the screen. "He's our missing man."

"Compose a profile from the employee records," Barry asked.

Chris obliged and soon Chad Elliott's information was up for everyone to see. He was forty-nine, single and lived in the suburbs.

"Nice job!" Jill said, taking out her keys. "Come on, Barry; let's go talk to this guy."

"Can't I finish my sandwich first?"

"You've not even started it yet. Put it in the fridge."

"But…"

"No eating in my car!"

Barry sighed but patted Chris on the back, thanking him for his work. He and Jill placed their food in the fridge in the back of the room before they went to leave.

"Rebecca," Jill said, "if you don't mind would you continue working with Chris in trying to find out about this creature? If you can't identify it then surely you could find a weakness for it or something based on its features?"

"If that's alright with you, Captain," Rebecca looked over to Enrico who nodded.

"That's what you were hired for."

Jill smiled and waved to Chris as Barry opened the door for her.

"Aren't you going to wave to me?" Forest asked.

"Eat crap," Jill said as she walked past Wesker in the doorway. He had a puzzled look behind his sunglasses.

"What was that all about?" he asked the room.

"We have a lead," Chris said. "A potential witness; they're going to check it out."

"Oh," said Wesker, looking at the door. He had an anxious look on his face. "I see."

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON SUBURBS<strong>

* * *

><p>Jill and Barry pulled up outside what looked like a modest manor house that was in the Raccoon City suburbs. On the way Chris called and gave them some more information about Chad Elliott. He had moved to Raccoon City a few years ago and did not technically work at Raccoon General. He was an employee of the Umbrella Corporation working in one of the few pharmaceutical laboratories in the city. As Jill and Barry looked up at his house when they got out of the car they knew that something did not sit right.<p>

The neighbourhood looked very desirable. Clean, tidy lawns sat in front of grand, immaculate houses. The driveways were occupied by cars that looked to be more expensive than Barry's house was, or so he thought. It was very quiet and picturesque like something out of a 1950s movie. If a perky middle aged neighbour popped up asking to borrow a cup of sugar the eerily artificial scene would be complete.

"Chris said our guy was single and lived on his own, right?" Jill asked Barry as they walked up the concrete path that cut through the immaculately trimmed lawn. Bushes that held colourful flowers some Jill had never seen before ran alongside the path.

"Yes he did," Barry said as he looked around. The house was huge with large windows and a gold flagpole outside. The American flag hung limply.

"If a lowly lab tech can afford a house like this then I'm switching jobs," Jill told him as they stopped at the front door. She rang the doorbell. "How do you want to play this?"

"Less is more," Barry suggested.

"Good call."

The front door opened and a slim, tall man appeared before them. He had blonde hair that was receding slightly and dark green eyes. He wore an expensive looking suit. He took a look at Jill and Barry and frowned.

"Yes?"

"Chad Elliott?" Barry asked. Elliott folded his arms.

"What's this about?"

"Barry Burton, Jill Valentine," Barry said as he and Jill showed him their identification. "S.T.A.R.S." Elliott looked at the two silently for a moment as if he were considering what to do for a moment.

"What can I do for you?"

"Our presence was required at your workplace last night," Jill said, putting her ID away and resting her hand on her gun. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Elliott's eyes went to Jill's holstered Samurai Edge.

"Would you like to come in?"

Jill removed her beret as Elliott showed her and Barry into his home, guiding them through a long, elaborately decorated hallway that held several fine paintings and ornaments. Jill mused that every item in the hall probably cost over $1000 each. There was one ornament of a horse drawn cart. The cart was tilted upward so that only the wheels were touching the ground while the horse appeared to be jumping. Elliott's footsteps were synchronised with the ticking of a grandfather clock that stood proudly in the hallway. He took them through into the living room that had two long couches in front of a roaring brick fireplace. To the back were several bookshelves that were stacked tightly with various texts. A quick scan of them revealed that most of them focused on the subject of genetics, biology and DNA. Elliott offered Barry and Jill one of the couches and they sat together, Jill crossing her legs and placing her beret down on the seat.

"So what can I do for you?" Elliott asked, taking a seat opposite them. "I would offer you something to drink but I'm sure you're in a rush."

"We're investigating an incident that happened at Raccoon General last night," Barry explained. "We were hoping to ask you a few questions."

"Yes, your partner already said that. What about?"

"You work at Raccoon General, correct?"

"No, that's incorrect," Elliott said. "I work in an Umbrella lab across town. I am one of the development teams that design products for over the counter use. I had a placement at Raccoon General to record the results of a modified version of a prescription painkiller that was being used for outpatients. My time there ended a short while ago."

"I see," Barry nodded. "So is that all you do, or rather _did_, there? Observe and record?"

"I am a trained physician. I occasionally helped out if they were low on staff."

"Is that why you were working as part of the ER team last night?" Jill asked. Elliott frowned and looked at her.

"No. As I said; my time there expired."

"When was your last night?" Barry asked.

"A few weeks ago, a Thursday I believe."

"Well it's just that according to the records you were working last night," said Jill. "The operating room on the third floor with Doctor George Hamilton. Nice guy."

"I used to work those nights but, as I said, no longer. If you contacted the hospital I'm sure they would have told you and saved you a trip."

The neutral candidness of the man's tone began to irritate Barry.

"Well according to the hospital you're still working there," Barry said, masking his irritation. "Something's up with that wouldn't you agree?"

"You'd have to check with the hospital about that," said Elliott, leaning back. "It's their error, not mine. Why do you care if I was there or not anyway? What happened?"

"Seven people were murdered that night Mr Elliott," he said. "Two of those dead were my colleagues and five of them were your old colleagues."

"That's a shame," Elliott said without seeming too bothered by the news. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Not as sorry as I was to watch them die," said Jill. Elliott gave her a sudden look. He had not expected that. "The murderer was a patient; a patient you would have treated had you been there. Lucky break for you, eh?"

"You think I had something to do with this?" Elliott asked. "You think I am the murderer? You just said yourself that you saw your friends being murdered."

"That I did," Jill's face was expressionless. "I saw the murderer, yes. He was very different to you. He was quite large, muscular and could walk on walls with large claws."

Elliott's expression narrowed.

"Excuse me?"

"He had large claws, quite sharp from the autopsy reports of your dead col… sorry, former colleagues. Want to know how they died? They were literally torn to shreds."

"A man didn't kill your friends, Mr Elliott," Barry said. "Something that used to be a man did."

"That sounds pretty farfetched," Elliott said.

"As I said," Jill leant forward. "I saw it with my own eyes. Several S.T.A.R.S. members did."

"Well I'm hardly a muscular creature with sharp claws and a piercing tongue now am I?" Elliott shrugged.

"No, you're not. However I suspect you may have information that could be useful."

"You suspect wrong."

"Are you developing any drugs that could turn a man into a monster?" Jill queried.

"Are you serious?" Elliott let out a laugh. "I apologise for sounding insensitive but I think you're confused."

"Maybe we could take a look around?" Barry suggested. "Maybe that'd help stamp out our confusion."

"Maybe you two could get a warrant," Elliott said firmly. "I don't need to entertain your delusional fantasies." There was silence for a moment. "If there is a murderer out there I'd suggest you stop wasting my time and yours and find it before more people die. For Christ's sake, you're supposed to be police officers. Why don't you start acting like it and get out of my house!"

"Okay," Barry said. "There's no need to be rude. We weren't rude about your lack of tasteful furniture now were we?" Elliott gave him a cold, silent stare. "We're leaving."

"See you soon," Jill said as she and Barry left the room, showing themselves out. As they went outside, they deliberately let the door slam hard behind them. The ornament of the horse and cart rolled off its pedestal and crashed to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces. Elliott looked at it angrily.

Outside Jill and Barry exchanged glances before they started walking.

"I didn't mention the tongue to him, did I?" Jill said.

"No you did not," Barry replied.

"And you didn't mention the tongue, did you?"

"No, I did not."

Jill smiled.

"Perfect."

* * *

><p>The Umbrella Appreciation Festival began in the late afternoon. There were several parades down the streets with people cheering as representatives of Umbrella's various faculties marched past. In J's Bar, George Hamilton would have been able to see a parade if he turned away from his whiskey bottle that was now nearly half empty. There were several fairs set up in public places outside, one of the larger ones was set up by the gothic looking Saint Michael Clock Tower and there was a heavy police presence that mingled with the families having fun. Kevin Ryman was patrolling there as a large stage was being set up. Soon several local bands would be playing live music after Mayor Michael Warren gave a speech. The stage was built over a manhole that was emitting light steam from the sewer below, making the stage appear slightly hazy and mysterious. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, passing behind the large clock tower.<p>

A young woman was rushing with her young daughter toward the fair. The mother told her five-year-old to hurry up or they would miss the parade, which they were desperate to get to since the girl's father would be in it. She didn't expect to have to park so far away so early in the day. After ten minutes the little girl moaned that her feet hurt so they stopped for a moment as her mother lifted her up so that she would be carried the rest of the distance. It was not that far to go now but time was running short; the parade would start any moment now. The mother prayed for a miracle.

Then she saw it; an alleyway that would cut five minutes off their journey. She crossed the street as she made her way toward it, carrying her daughter around the open manhole that was dangerously unattended in the middle of the street.

Up high in the alley, the Licker was scaling the walls. It let out a low growl as the mother entered the darkness while her daughter started to cry.

* * *

><p>Back in the S.T.A.R.S. office, every member of Alpha and Bravo team had been assembled. Kenneth Sullivan, Edward Dewey and Kevin Dooley joined Forest, Richard and Rebecca on one side of the briefing table while Chris, Jill, Barry, Brad and Joseph sat on the other side. Standing at the head of the table was Wesker and Enrico.<p>

"As most of you know;" Wesker was saying, "a dangerous creature that we've nicknamed the 'Licker' for the time being is roaming the streets. Extra units have been put placed at strategic locations around the festival areas with the order to kill it but that is not enough. We need to get it before it hurts anyone else. Alpha team have been working the case and will now report your findings." He looked to Joseph. "Were you able to trace the van?"

"Sort of," Joseph sat forward. "A camera on Euston Street picked up a van matching the witness' description heading toward the hospital. I was able to trace the route all the way back to the freeway. It came and went from the same location, the freeway. It could have come from anywhere from there as I wasn't able to trace any further as there are no freeway cameras in this part of the Midwest. I tried running the van's plates but they were false so it was a dead end. I put an APB out for it though so we might get lucky? Someone may spot it and we can get the owners in for questioning."

"That won't help us for this immediate situation…" Wesker said. "I think the van was a long shot anyway. If the people responsible for this are able to turn a person into a murderous freak then it's not unreasonable to think that they can make a van disappear. We'll cut it out of our investigation but good work nonetheless. What did you get, Brad?"

"I searched missing person's records to see if anyone matched the pre-Lickerfication patient but no luck so far. I didn't really have a lot to go on since the description of the guy was pretty, well, bad. The blood samples that forensics took from the corridors were no good either as they could not be compared to any databases."

"Why not?" asked Enrico.

"Well because the blood wasn't human," Brad said quite directly. "No one knows exactly what it is. Forensics are going to send the sample off to see if an Umbrella lab would make anything of it."

"We've got a monster on the loose," Kenneth summarised. "Why didn't anyone brief us on this?"

"You're being briefed now," Enrico said snappily. He looked to Barry and Jill. "How did your detective work pan out?"

"With the help of Officer Ryman," Barry said, "we were able to establish that Chad Elliott, a local nerd, was at the hospital when the Licker started killing."

"How did you manage that?" Wesker asked.

"Ryman told us that we may have a missing guy," Jill said. "Turns out we did after we cross checked the identified bodies with the people working that night. We visited Mr Elliott who claimed to have no knowledge of the incident but accidentally let slip a few characteristics of the Licker that he could not have known unless he was there. He's definitely got something to do with this."

"We'll need to search his house," Wesker nodded. "However warrants take time to go through and we don't have time before the festival gets into full swing. Chris, please tell me you were able to find something out about this monster."

"Well Rebecca and I couldn't identify what the Licker actually is," Chris said. "It's no wonder the blood tests Brad talked about didn't give any results; it appears to be a composite of several different animals. Based on the characteristics those of us who were at the hospital observed, Rebecca and I did some guesswork as to how it behaves and what weaknesses it may have." Chris looked to Rebecca who jumped slightly. She was not expecting to have to speak. She cleared her throat.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you all."

"Ms Chambers we're on a very tight schedule," Wesker said.

"Sorry…" She cleared her throat again. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry. "We're putting aside the question on how it became what it is and focusing on how to stop it as it is. Based on the description I was given my current hypothesis is that it has very poor vision. However the fact that it was able to move around so efficiently suggests that it may have a sort of sonar system, similar to bats, which is why it was able to move with such agility. Bats have an exceptional immune system, meaning that it would adapt if any foreign DNA were added to it. This supports my theory that it is a hybrid of some kind. Since it probably relies on a sort of inbuilt sonar to navigate the world, it must have highly acute hearing, which is why it attacked everyone most likely. It was startled. The loud noises of the festival tonight will startle it more."

"That's good then," Edward said. "That means it'll keep away from people."

"It is more likely that the commotion will confuse it," Rebecca said. "It will cause a haze and it won't be able to move in any direction apart from where the noise is coming from. That'll mean it will walk right into a parade or something and then people will start dying. Of course all this is based on the theory that it won't mutate again. If it has mutated once before who's to say it won't do it again."

"We need an action plan and we need it now," Wesker said. "Chris, Forest; you two can finally prove which one of you is a better shot. I want you two to take up sharpshooting at the top of the Saint Michael Clock Tower. Keep an eye on everything. If someone so much as drops a piece of litter I want you two to be aware of it. The rest of us will take position around the city in the major danger zones."

"Captain," Rebecca held up her hand. "I've not been…"

"You'll be with Enrico, Chambers. You've got to get your feet wet sometime, may as well be today. The rest of you pick a partner and let's get out there…" Wesker's cell phone started to ring. He answered it quickly. "Yes?" He was silent for a moment before lowering his phone.

"There have been two more fatalities."

* * *

><p><strong>SAINT MICHAEL CLOCK TOWER<strong>

* * *

><p>The alleyway where the bodies of a woman and child had been secured as the police examined the grim scene. Rebecca and Enrico were there looking glum. The bodies had been covered completely by sheets. The child's sheet looked distressingly small. Blood trails went away from the bodies heading toward the fair at the Saint Michael Clock Tower. Jill and Barry were patrolling the crowds, keeping an eye out for the Licker. Chris was positioned inside the mechanism room on top of the clock tower with Forest, both of them aiming sniper rifles down at different sections of the crowd. Chris saw Jill in his scope.<p>

Wesker walked past Kevin Ryman who was chatting to his partner. As Kevin became aware of Wesker's presence his concentration waned and stopped listening to what his partner was saying about his new car. He watched Wesker as he disappeared into the crowd.

Something was about to happen. He could feel it.

At the stage that had been set up before the large collection of stalls and fairs, the band started to play an instrumental number as someone walked over to the microphone. The speaker announced that the mayor would be giving a speech in a few moments and urged everyone to get ready.

The atmosphere was electrifying. People were jumping and screaming with delight, they were laughing and cheering elsewhere as the parades went by and as they won prizes in the carnival. The large banner above the stage that read 'Happy Umbrella Day' encapsulated the very essence of the people of Raccoon City. The streets nearest to the fair were packed with people. It was difficult to move through them all; meaning policing the streets had become that much more difficult.

Mayor Michael Warren took to the stage as the band played a cheerful melody to accompany his walk to the microphone. He was a tall, tanned man with receding grey hair. His suit was a dark blue and he had a badge with the Umbrella logo of two crosses, one red and one white, made out of isosceles triangles that interlaced with each other. Mayor Warren held up his hand and smiled pleasantly at the crowd as he nodded at the speaker who had introduced him before facing everyone. He had a gentle presence. He reminded Jill of a nice old man you'd see in the park feeding ducks, except he wasn't that old. The noise of the festival silenced as the mayor began to talk.

"Thank you," Warren said, letting out a chuckle. "You know I forget every year how big the turnout to these events is or maybe more of you are coming each year, who knows? Anyway it is great to see so many faces here tonight. It feels wonderful to know that so many people are grateful for Umbrella and for what Umbrella has done for our fair city. Umbrella is the blood that flows through the veins of Raccoon City. It adds a richness to our lives that you just can't find elsewhere. Of course these celebrations aren't all about Umbrella; it's about all of you, the people who are more valuable than any corporation or place. Without each and every one of you good, honest people there would be no Umbrella and no Raccoon City."

People started to applaud and cheer.

"She's hot, isn't she?" Forest said to Chris up in the clock tower. He could see Rebecca through his sights. She was standing in the alley, examining the bodies. "The new girl, Chambers. Do you think she's got a boyfriend or something?"

"I didn't ask," said Chris. "We've not really had a chance to chat about anything other than this case."

"So she's fair game then?"

"Forest you're like, over ten years older than her," Chris pointed out as he scanned the far reaches of the crowd looking for any signs of danger.

"With age comes experience," Forest said, grinning. "She looks like the kind of girl who'd be looking for a teacher and I reckon I could be the one to teach her some things."

Chris sighed and shook his head.

"You're a pervert."

"Come on, I reckon we'd be a cute couple," Forest went on.

"You'd look like Marilyn Manson, Forest. If you started dating her you'd look like Marilyn Manson if he started dating a high schooler."

"You're saying these things just because she's out of your league. Chambers deserves a man, not a boy like you, Redfield."

On the ground, Wesker was using his headset to communicate with Enrico.

"Chambers has made some disturbing hypotheses," Enrico told him.

"I think I know why this is the first casualty we've had since the hospital," she said.

"Why?" Wesker asked with a voice filled with dread.

"Just across the road there's an opened manhole. I think that the Licker is using the sewer system to get around the city. Enrico tells me it's extensive."

"It is," Wesker said. "The sewers were designed to allow the whole population of the city to evacuate down there in the event of some catastrophic disaster. You could literally get from one end of the city to another through the sewers. You could even get outside the city limits using it."

"Well then that gives us a problem; the noise in the sewers is quite loud and echoes through the tunnels. That mixed with the noise of the festival that has just started to resonate down into the tunnels must have made it emerge in this location," Rebecca speculated. "It is being assaulted by all of this noise and is looking for escape but everywhere it goes it is surrounded by more noise. It is probably getting agitated, maybe frightened and that is why it took its frustrations out on our two victims in the alley. After it killed it probably accessed the sewers again to try and escape the racket."

"So it could be anywhere?" Wesker summarised, rubbing his temples.

"No," Rebecca said. "All of the noise has stopped now that the mayor has started giving his speech. The sound of a single voice, even if it echoes around, is not as intolerable as the sound of a massive carnival."

"Dear God…" Wesker gasped.

"It's going to come up right where the mayor is," Rebecca told him. "And when it does it will try and take out the last loud thing it can hear."

The manhole underneath the stage vibrated slightly. It tilted open slightly as a sharp claw began to slowly emerge from the darkness.

"Chris, Forest," Wesker said into his headset, "both of you maintain visual on the mayor. We believe the Licker may try to attack him.

"Why will it single the mayor out?" Forest asked. "I didn't think it was that intelligent."

"Just do as I tell you!" Wesker ordered.

The Licker's head emerged fully underneath the stage out of sight from anyone. Less than five feet above it, the mayor was beginning to bring his speech to a close. It let out a quiet hiss.

"Jill, Barry, get as close to the mayor as you can," Wesker said. Jill and Barry had moved around the stage during their patrols and were now behind it. They started making their way through the crowd.

The Licker had completely emerged from the manhole.

Jill and Barry pushed harder through the crowd as they approached the stage.

Wesker was nearing the front of the stage.

Chris could see Wesker approaching the stage as Forest appeared next to him, aiming down his own sights.

The Licker looked up. It could tell that there was someone above it. Its jaw fell open, saliva falling to the ground.

Jill and Barry pushed their way past the 'no unauthorised access' signs and went closer to the stage. Moving past some fences they saw the Licker and drew their weapons.

Wesker got stuck behind some enthusiastic citizens who would not move.

The mayor took a pause.

The loud cry of the Licker echoed the quiet streets.

Jill and Barry saw it leap upward.

Kevin appeared on the stage and grabbed the mayor, pushing him aside as the Licker erupted from beneath the planks. Splintered shards of wood exploded everywhere, flying off in every direction as the Licker leapt into the air. It landed right beside the microphone, in front of the entire crowd. Kevin and the mayor fell to the ground just next to where the Licker landed. Its tongue drifted in the air slightly and then struck the microphone stand, sending it flying off the stage. Members of the public began to scream and the people who were blocking Wesker were now more than happy to let him go past as they ran in terror away from the monster on the stage. He drew his weapon.

The Licker looked at Kevin who was shielding the mayor from it. It crouched and let out a low cry as it was about to leap for him.

Jill and Barry suddenly appeared, shooting at the beast. It let out a cry as the shots hit it. It then turned toward them and leapt in their direction. Barry pushed Jill out of the way before jumping in the other direction, giving the monster plenty of room to leap off the stage. It was now on the streets that were emptying quickly. Chris saw it through the scope of his rifle but people kept running in front of his line of sight so he could not get a shot.

"I don't have a clear shot," he said.

"I got it," Wesker shouted, running around the stage after it. The Licker began scurrying away from everyone. Barry signalled on the radio for Rebecca to come over and take a look at the mayor.

Jill hopped off the stage and ran after Wesker to give him some back up.

"Are you okay, Mr Mayor?" Kevin asked Warren.

"Yes," he said, slightly shaken. "Thank you, Officer." He sighed. "What in Heaven's name was that?"

"I'll tell you when I catch it, sir," Kevin said standing up. He ran to the side of the stage and jumped into the air and landed on the ground by doing a forward roll as he joined the chase.

"Hey, Ryman!" Barry shouted after him. "Stop, you're going to get yourself hurt!"

His words were ignored.

Wesker chased the Licker across the street, through an alley and into a parade route. The Licker leapt forward into the middle of the road in front of everyone. It has just after the marching bands and just before the large balloons and floats. Wesker pushed his way into the parade, past the slightly confused people, and began shooting at it.

The Licker looked at him and sent its tongue at him, knocking him off his feet as the people around it began shrieking in terror. Wesker fired a shot into the air, puncturing a parade balloon. With all of the sudden noise, the Licker ran away as Wesker got to his feet. He saw it go into another alleyway. He followed it, heading down some steps and moving forward through quite a tight set of walkways. As he came to a junction he heard a crash around the left hand corner. Turning the corner he saw a door that had been broken down with dust still floating into the air. He went inside, took out a flashlight and looked around what was an old, disused warehouse.

There were many long, tall shelves that appeared to hold industrial supplies however everything looked as though it had not been used for quite some time. The light of the moon shone through the dirty windows that ran along the wall just below the ceiling. There was dust everywhere and Wesker followed the Licker's tracks until they suddenly vanished. It had jumped somewhere, somewhere he could not see. He could hear it breathing and he looked around for it, glancing at every wall and in the cracks of every shelf. If he looked straight up he would have seen it silently crawling along the ceiling of the warehouse. It could see him with each loud footstep he took. The Licker opened its jaw and saliva fell down from its mouth as its tongue got ready to stab him.

Wesker heard its saliva drip behind him and he turned and looked up. He saw the Licker and began shooting at it. The Licker dropped to the floor and landed with a smack on its back a little bit in front of Wesker. He stood motionless for a moment as he kept his Samurai Edge trained on the beast. He was holding his breath.

Jill entered the warehouse with her weapon drawn. The Licker let out a cry and suddenly got to its feet. It jumped over Wesker, who ducked, and went into the tall shelves. The two S.T.A.R.S. members chased after it. They made their way deep into the centre of the dark shelving. Above them the Licker wrapped its tongue around the top of one of the shelves as Wesker and Jill ran along the bottom of it. When they were beneath it, the Licker jumped forward out of one of the taller windows, pulling the shelf with it. It tilted over Wesker and Jill as the objects it held started to slide off.

"Move!" Wesker shouted, taking Jill's arm and running forward as heavy equipment began raining down on them. Wesker and Jill jumped forward as a large box crashed where they were a few seconds ago. They looked back and saw that their way to the door was now blocked.

Outside the Licker crashed through the window and landed on the empty streets accompanied by shards of glass. It landed in front of Kevin.

He began firing at the Licker, emptying an entire magazine into it.

Jill and Wesker heard the shots and got up as quick as they could.

"Guys do you have a visual?" Wesker said to Chris and Forest.

The Licker leapt forward, pushing into Kevin and knocking his weapon away. Still falling down, Kevin was able to kick it off him, sending it into a mailbox. Getting to his feet, Kevin made for his weapon but the Licker managed to wrap its tongue around his feet, sending him to the ground. Kevin was being dragged toward it. He tried grasping for anything to help him but there was nothing to hold onto. He saw one of the broken shards of glass that fell to the ground and picked it up, pushing the sharp edge into the Licker's tongue just as he got near it. The monster let out a cry and he was able to control his legs. He kicked its face with both of his feet that were still held together and the Licker staggered back, its tongue falling limply away from him.

Kevin got to his feet and did a spin kick, sending the Licker back again. It crashed into a parked car, setting off the alarm. It let out a cry as the loud noise drove right into its head and it jumped forward, using its large claw to strike Kevin across his face. He felt a sudden sharp pain as the side of his face began to bleed heavily. The Licker was on top of him, knocking him to the ground and smacking his head against the asphalt. Kevin saw the blurred horror of the beast up close as it pushed its face close to his own.

In the clock tower, Chris heard the car alarm.

Kevin tried to get away but it was too strong and he was suddenly feeling very weak and dizzy. The Licker let out a loud cry as it lifted its claw up.

It sent it down with great force.

Blood went everywhere as Chris shot the Licker from up in the clock tower. The beast was knocked off Kevin due to the force of the bullet. It let out a loud cry. Forest took aim and fired, shooting off one of the Licker's claws. It let out another shrill cry and jumped away from the scene. Jill and Wesker emerged from the alleyway as it flashed past them. They continued their pursuit down the street. Despite its handicap, the Licker was still moving quite fast. Wesker and Jill fired at it as they ran but they were not very accurate at this speed.

"I'll try and get ahead of it," Wesker said, running off down another road, leaving Jill on her own.

Jill chased it down a street. The gap between her and the Licker was decreasing as it started crashing into parked cars and setting off the alarms which made it scream out even more. It was clearly confused. Jill suspected it would not last much longer. The Licker turned a corner and Jill realised that it was heading in the direction of the hospital.

Still close behind it, Jill turned the corner to continue after the Licker. She was very close now and managed to land a few bullets into it. The Licker stopped as it looked at the hospital in the distance. It began to twitch and let out a cry. Jill went around it and began shooting at it once more. She hit its limbs and head.

The Licker let out a weak hiss as it collapsed. It tried to crawl away but Jill shot it again. She was now in front of it and as she reloaded her Samurai Edge she looked curiously at the monster. It was making a strange noise as if it were a whimpering dog.

Deciding to put it out of its misery, Jill took aim once last time.

As she went to pull the trigger she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see someone jump at her, knocking her to the ground.

Jill let go of her weapon and saw it scatter across the street as she was forced to the ground. She then saw several people in dark boots emerge from nowhere, one of them kicking her gun further away. She strained her neck and saw they were wearing high grade dark green military gear and carried state of the art weapons that appeared to be M4 Carbines. They surrounded the Licker as it whimpered loudly. Jill then saw one of them put a large shotgun to its head and shoot it mercilessly, shattering the top half of its body completely.

Jill turned her head, looking away from the grim sight. Other soldiers appeared carrying what looked like a large stretcher with a clear plastic bubble over it. They placed it down next to the dead Licker as they opened it.

Jill tried to wriggle free of the grasp of whoever was holding her but they were strong and she could not move. She tried to turn to see who it was but was unable to see his face. She could smell his cologne, though. He smelt good.

"Easy, lady," said the man who was restraining her. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You're going to be the one who'll end up hurt if you don't let go of me right now," Jill hissed.

"You got attitude," the man grinned. "I like that. I love a strong woman."

He had a cheeky voice with the slightest hint of a South American accent. It was crisp and full of confidence. He was pressed against her and she could feel that he was well toned. She could feel the skin of his arms, he was more casual than the other soldiers with the sleeves of his arms rolled up. She assumed that he wore the same black combat boots, beige combat fatigues and green shirt and black tactical vest as the others.

"I'm Jill Valentine from S.T.A.R.S. I don't care who you are…"

"We're friends," the stranger said. Jill frowned.

"I don't have many friends that force me to the ground."

"We're on the same side; we're doing you a favour."

The man released his grip and stood up. Jill rolled over and looked at him. He had long dark hair that was similar to a curtains style but much trendier. He had olive skin and brown eyes. He was very handsome, not what Jill expected a soldier of this calibre to look like. She glanced to the others and saw that the Licker had been put inside the isolation unit on the stretcher. She frowned and guessed that this was the favour her new 'friend' was talking about. She looked back at him and saw that he was holding out his hand, offering to help her up.

Jill got to her feet without taking his hand and brushed herself down.

"You're interfering with official S.T.A.R.S. business," Jill told him.

"Sweetheart, I'd hate to say it buy we outrank you."

"Who are you?" Jill asked.

"I thought you didn't care who we are."

A large truck turned the corner and sped over toward them. Jill and her 'friend' turned to look at it as it came to a stop next to the group of soldiers and the Licker. One of the men turned around.

"Carlos," he spoke in a Russian accent, "say goodbye to your girlfriend and get inside."

Jill looked at Carlos who smiled at her.

"I guess that's my cue to exit."

"Not so fast," Jill grabbed his hand. "You're not seriously expecting me to just let you steal the body of something that has been on a killing spree, do you? The R.P.D. have the right to examine it to find out where it came from; you're interfering with an on-going investigation."

"You're a bit uptight, aren't you?" Carlos chuckled. Jill did not find it amusing. "Look; we're doing what friends do for each other; a favour. I'd like you to do me a favour now and turn around and pretend like this never happened."

"It'd be easier to pretend this never happened if you leave me with the Licker."

"The Licker?" Carlos smiled. "Good name. I like it. Very… inventive." Jill shot him a sarcastic look. "I'm sorry to have to put you out, but I got a job to do, too. I tell you what; how about I owe you one."

"I'd be happy if I never saw another one of those things again," Jill said.

"I can't see that happening," Carlos said cryptically. "Don't worry; I won't let loose another 'Licker'. What I mean is that I owe you a favour. How about that?"

"I can't see that happening," Jill mocked Carlos' accent. He grinned again.

"I like you. You're fun."

"You just said I was uptight," Jill noted.

"Yeah but all the ladies loosen up when they listen to me speak. They love my accent; it drives them crazy."

"I think you're the crazy one," Jill said. Carlos chuckled.

"I hope I can see you again real soon. Catch you later, my Valentine."

He turned and ran over to re-join his people. Jill caught a brief glimpse of the logo on the back of his uniform. It was similar to the Umbrella logo but it had swords cutting through a shield in the centre. She wanted to go over him but her Samurai Edge was on the other side of the road and even if she had it she would not stand much of a chance against this obviously well organised military organisation.

With all of the soldiers inside the truck, it got into gear and began driving away. It went past Jill and she watched it as it drove down the road for a while before turning a corner and going out of sight. With it out of sight, Jill sighed, shook her head and turned around, slowly walking toward her gun.

Back at the stage near the Saint Michael Clock Tower, Barry was pacing around as the mayor made phone calls. Several uniformed officers arrived on the scene making Barry sigh with relief. He was never any good at sticking around.

"Where the hell have you guys been?" Barry asked. Not really waiting for an answer, he handed the mayor over to them and took out his radio. "This is Barry; Mayor Warren is secure. Chambers where the hell did you go? I've been waiting here for you for ten minutes."

"Barry," said Enrico down the line, "we have a situation."

Barry looked concerned. He asked Enrico where he was and then went off in the direction that the Licker had run. After a few minutes Barry stepped onto the street where Rebecca and Enrico were. They were kneeling over a twitching figure in the road.

It was Kevin.

Kevin was covered in blood. A huge gash could be seen at the side of his face that continued to bleed heavily. Rebecca was holding a cloth to the wound but it was soaked in blood. There was also a very deep wound in his chest as Chris was unable to shoot the Licker before it tore into his torso. He was bleeding to death.

Barry appeared at Kevin's side.

"Oh God," he gasped. Looking at Kevin's twitching face; he took a breath and put on a brave face. "That's… quite a paper cut you got there, buddy." Kevin let out a single chuckle, coughing up blood. Barry looked to the others as he kneeled close to him. "Where's the ambulance?" he asked quietly. Rebecca shook her head.

"Hey, Barry…" Kevin said. "It looks… looks like I won't need you after all." Barry sighed, taking Kevin's hand.

"You did good, kid," he said.

"Yeah?" Kevin coughed.

"Yeah. You saved the mayor's life. You did the right thing."

"Was I like Chris Redfield?" Kevin asked. Barry let out a laugh and shook his head.

"Not even remotely."

"Good… I… I didn't want to let you down."

"You didn't."

Kevin smiled and then his head fell limp, his eyes gazing blankly at the night sky above. He stopped bleeding. Barry held onto his hand for a moment, looking down at the policeman before he placed both of his hands over his chest. He then wiped his hands free of blood and closed Kevin's eyes.

* * *

><p>Chad Elliott was sat at home reading a book on genetics in front of the roaring fireplace. The only sound that could be heard over the crackling embers was the ticking of a grandfather clock out in the hallway. It ticked and ticked rhythmically over the crackling sound of the gentle burning flames. Elliott looked up as the fire began to die down. He stood up and went over toward it, using a metal poker to rearrange the logs. He put a few more pieces of firewood into the flames and went to sit back down, the fire burning with renewed life.<p>

The grandfather clock began chiming on the hour and there then came a knock at the door. Elliott sighed and looked at the time. It was very late. He moved out of the living room and through the hallway. The stand that had once held his glass horse and carriage ornament was empty. He unlocked his door and gripped the handle firmly. He opened his door to find Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine along with a large number of police officers stood behind them on his doorstep. His entire front lawn was filled with police cars and forensic vans.

"Chad Elliott?" Wesker asked.

"Yes…"

Wesker stepped forward, grabbing Elliott by the neck and forcing him up against the wall. Chris and Jill went inside followed by a heavy stream of the police, all of them ignoring Wesker's display of unnecessary force.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Elliott choked I'll sue you!"

"You can try," Wesker said, speaking menacingly at him. "Look around; no one gives a damn. We have a warrant to search your home?"

"Why?"

"Can't you think of a reason?" Wesker asked, taking out some handcuffs. Elliott gave him a puzzled look. "Maybe you're under arrest because you're a bad man? Maybe you just piss me off? Maybe it's because the department's arrest quota is dangerously low and I just like the look of you."

"Get the hell off me!"

Wesker flipped Elliott around, forcing him against the wall. He grabbed his hands and secured them with the cuffs behind his back.

"Nah, I think I know why I wanna put you away. It's because three of my colleagues died today and I want you to pay for the part you played in their deaths."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Elliott shouted as Wesker dragged him out of his own home. Outside a small crowd was forming on the other side of the police tape. They were all neighbours dressed in their nightclothes who got out of bed to be nosey.

"You don't know what I'm talking about?" Wesker repeated, raising his voice as he dragged him across his lawn. "We know you're involved in the deaths of those five medical technicians at Raccoon General. We're going to tear your house to pieces to find what we can to put you away and when we have what we need we're gonna throw you in prison where your cell mate is going to tear into you. I'll make sure of that."

"You're crazy!"

"You killed eight good people today, Mr Elliott, eight people who wanted to try and make this world a better place. And that's not to mention two other people, a mother and child, who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm not going to let you go until you tell me exactly why you did what you did."

They came up to the rear door of the police car and Wesker opened it.

"Maybe if you focused on your job more instead of insulting and running after me you wouldn't have to explain those deaths," Elliott said flippantly. Wesker pushed him into the car, deliberately letting him smack his head on the side of the door. He threw him onto the seat and leant over. Wesker slipped something into Elliott's palm before climbing back out. Elliott clenched his fist as the door closed.

Outside, Wesker stopped an officer and ordered him to take Elliott back to the police station to sweat for a while as he helped search his house. As Elliott as driven away, Wesker went up into his house.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>Several of the S.T.A.R.S. members were leaving, saying goodnight to each other as they left. Barry, Rebecca and Enrico were the last to remain inside the dark office. Most of the lights were out except for a few dim side lights and desk lamps. The office was much darker than it usually was and appeared much smaller. It was approaching midnight and Rebecca was at her own desk, arranging her things in an orderly manner for when she was next in. Her computer had been set up by the IT department while they were all out and she was making sure everything worked correctly. Enrico was typing up a report at his computer while Barry was sat quietly in his chair not doing anything. Enrico sighed and rubbed his tired eyes before turning off his computer, deciding to finish the report later.<p>

"I'm going home; I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'll see you on Monday, Rebecca. Goodnight, Barry."

"Night," Barry muttered.

"Goodnight, Captain," Rebecca said. As Enrico gathered his belongings he looked to her. She was meticulous in how she arranged her desk. She wanted everything to be perfect.

"Chambers," he said, making her look up from her work. "I don't expect you to get everything spot on. It's your first day; stop trying so hard and let things happen naturally because I'll tell you this; you did some amazing work today even though you were nervous and underprepared. Don't go overthinking things because that might take away from your natural talent. You understand?"

"I do," Rebecca nodded, with a slight smile. "Thank you."

Enrico smiled back, turned around and left the office, softly closing the door. Rebecca looked over to Barry who was still sat silently. She recognised the look in his eyes. Standing up, she turned off her computer and desk lamp and moved over toward him, taking her bag with her.

"I'm sorry about Officer Ryman," she said, standing over his desk. "It's very hard to lose someone close to you, I know." Barry made a vague gesture into the air before speaking again, his mouth dry and voice slightly croaky.

"We weren't that close but… He was only thirty-one." Rebecca nodded slightly as Barry spoke. "Thirty-one years old. That's not an age to go. He was right there in the prime of his life. He was far too young to die like that."

"I don't think anyone is old enough to die like that," Rebecca said. Barry did not say anything in response. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Losing friends? No. Not in this town, at least not normally. Times were that the biggest danger a cop faced on the street was some petty thief who could outrun them. Now we've got terrorists wanting to blow us off the map and unbelievable monsters on the prowl wanting to tear us all into shreds." Barry sighed. "Thing have changed a lot in the past few years. I mean how are we supposed to protect the people of this city when we can't even protect ourselves? Three cops died today. What does that say about us?"

"It says that we're willing to put others before ourselves," Rebecca said. "We're willing to lay down our lives to protect the innocent people of this city."

"We still can't protect everyone."

"You may think that but no matter what we are always there for them. You were there for Kevin. Even though you weren't able to save him, you were still with him when he went. That would have meant a lot to him, I'm sure of it."

"That sounds too optimistic for me," Barry sighed. "You're new at this; you've not been exposed to the harsh realities of this work yet. Somehow I doubt that being there for someone when you're utterly powerless to do anything isn't helpful, it just shows how obsolete we really are."

Rebecca shook her head and moved closer to Barry. She leant against his desk and looked ahead at the dark wall.

"My Father died of cancer," she told him. "It spread quite severely and quickly. Within three months of his initial diagnosis he was dead…" Barry looked up at her.

"His final weeks were particularly painful for him. Even with the different types of medication they prescribed for him he was still in agony. It was at its worse a few days before he died. I came home from college to be with him during his final days. He told me that just being there and holding his hand made everything better and more tolerable. Knowing that he was loved and that he had someone there for him made everything better for him."

"Do you really believe that?" Barry asked.

"It makes me feel better to believe it," Rebecca looked at him. "I was powerless to help cure his condition or to do anything really. The only thing I could do was sit there and hold his hand and that seemed to make more of a difference than any medication ever could." She stood there silently for a moment as Barry contemplated his thoughts. She looked away, down at her boots. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle hum of some of the computers. "Anyway I'm going home, I'll see you later."

Rebecca stepped away from the desk and went for the door. As she went for the handle, Barry called out after her.

"Hey Rebecca." She turned around to look at him. "I'm glad you're here."

Rebecca smiled at him.

"Me too."

She opened the door and left Barry alone in the office. He sat in his chair for a few more moments before getting to his feet. He went over to the small refrigerator and opened it, squinting at the bright light. As he examined the contents he saw the sandwich he never had the chance to eat earlier. He took it out of the fridge and went back over to his desk. He stood there holding the sandwich for a moment before sighing and dropping it into the waste bin. Turning off his light and grabbing his keys, Barry left the office to go home and see his family.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere in the station, Chad Elliott was sitting in one of the interrogation rooms looking at his reflection in the two-way mirror. He slipped a small pin that he had hidden in his palm attempted to use it to pick the lock of his handcuffs. The camera in the observation room on the other side of the glass recorded him as he stared intently at his own reflection while the tried to break free from his shackles. With every click of a pin he felt himself getting closer to freedom. What he would do when he got out of his handcuffs he did not know but he was unable to think while he was restrained like this.<p>

Elliott was gritting his teeth in frustration. He was so close, he could feel it. Just a little more and then…

Click.

His handcuffs popped open and he was free again. With one of the rings still attached to his wrist, Elliott got up and looked at the mirror. If anyone were watching him they would surely come storming in any second now.

They did not.

Moving out of the line of sight of the recording camera, Elliott went to the door and picked the lock using the same pin. Stirred on by his success with the handcuffs and stood in a much more comfortable position it did not take Elliott long to pick the door lock. He cautiously opened the door slightly and peered through the slight crack. He could not see or hear anyone.

Elliott walked through the door and glanced down the corridor. It looked as if he was in the clear. Elliott broke into a light run, trying to move as quietly and as quickly as he could. He followed the exit signs that hung high on the walls. He turned a corner and jumped to see someone standing in front of him. It was Brian Irons.

"You scared me," Elliott said, putting his hand to his chest.

"God damn it, man," Irons said, checking his watch. "It took you ages to break out of there."

"You were waiting for me?" Elliott frowned. "Why? Why didn't you just come help me?"

"Because I needed you to get out on your own so I could justify killing you."

Iron then lifted his handgun and before Elliott could say anything fired three bullets into his chest. He stumbled back and collapsed to the ground. Irons stepped over him and looked into his eyes. He stared deeply and intently at Elliott who stared back. As Irons looked at him he saw a beautiful combination of pain, betrayal and fear before finally all life seemed to just echo away. Irons let out an excited sigh and smiled.

"Exquisite," he said to himself. The door behind him burst open and several officers arrived to investigate the gunshot. Irons stepped away from the body and looked at them. He put on an angry voice.

"Would someone please explain to me how this suspect managed to break out of the interrogation room?"

As Chad Elliott's residence, Wesker met with Chris and Jill on the front lawn. From the looks on their faces there was no good news.

"Nothing?" Wesker asked them.

"We've torn that place apart," Jill shook her head.

"The bastard probably hid anything incriminating," said Chris, looking to Jill. "Probably did it just after you and Barry left."

"Maybe we were wrong?" Jill shrugged. Wesker's cell phone started to ring and he stepped away. "He might not have had anything to do with it. Maybe he just saw the Licker and was just too afraid to say anything. Maybe we got the wrong guy."

"I doubt that," Wesker said, lowering his phone. "He just tried breaking out of the station. He's dead."

Chris and Jill looked at Wesker blankly for a moment while he went back to his call. With nothing inside the house, no key suspect to interrogate and not even the body of the creature all of their leads had dried up.

It was over.

* * *

><p>Jill got home just after one in the morning. She threw her keys onto the side table and checked her answering machine. There were no messages. She sighed as she stood over the answering machine, resting her head against the wall above it. It had been a horrendous day and all she wanted to do now was crawl into bed. She looked at the door to her bedroom which was still open and saw her bed, still unmade since she had to leave so quickly the morning before. She wished Peter was with her. She did not love him; she did not even like him that much, not yet at least. She just needed company.<p>

Jill took out her cell phone and called Peter. As the phone rang she went into her bedroom and sat on the bed, letting out a tired sigh. She was removing her boots when Peter picked up. He sounded tired.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh… hey. Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Jill sighed. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No of course not," Peter mumbled. "I mean who sleeps at this time of night?"

"Sorry, I didn't know if you were still working."

"Why would I be working?" Peter asked. Jill frowned.

"You text me saying there was an emergency at work; I thought you might still be there."

"Oh yeah, no that cleared up quicker than I expected but I was so tired I thought it'd be best to go straight to bed."

"I understand," Jill nodded.

She was getting the overwhelming feeling that Peter would not come over tonight so she decided not to ask. Instead she decided to see if she could make plans for tomorrow so that she could take her mind off everything.

"I had a long day, too. Say, do you wanna go out for lunch tomorrow? I could really use a distraction."

"Er… sure. I don't have any plans. Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Just… tired, you know? D'you wanna meet at Ellie's Diner? Say… one o'clock?"

"I'll be there."

"Great," Jill smiled weakly. "I'll see you then."

Jill let out a loud sigh and fell back into bed, spreading herself out on the unmade sheets. She did not bother to undress; she just closed her eyes and went off to sleep.

* * *

><p>As Jill rested, Rebecca entered her own apartment. It was very small studio apartment. Her bed was against the far wall with the kitchen and living area opposite it. She was surrounded by boxes and was yet to unpack. She closed and locked her front door and moved forward to look out of the window above the kitchen sink. She stared out at her neighbourhood that was in one of the more rundown areas of the city. She heard a door slam in the apartment next door and the two tenants started to argue. They were shouting quite loudly.<p>

Rebecca took a deep breath and closed the blinds before undressing and going to sleep, drifting off to the sounds of sirens in the distance and shouting through the walls.

* * *

><p>Barry walked through his front door being as quiet as he could. He moved on the tips of his toes and peered through the slightly opened door to his daughter's bedroom. Moira and Polly were sleeping soundly. He went over to his own bedroom, undressed and climbed into bed next to his wife, Kathy. She acknowledged his presence with a quiet moan.<p>

"Long day?" she asked.

"You have no idea," Barry told her, kissing her on the back of the neck before drifting off to sleep.

Chris Redfield did not go straight home after leaving work. Instead he went to the all night gym and worked out for two hours. He pushed himself hard on the weights as he watched himself in the mirror. He did this every time an assignment went wrong. He needed to be better. He stared at himself, willing praying that things would be better next time…

The next morning Jill woke up just after eleven. She took a long shower and started to get excitedly ready. She put on some nice dark jeans and a light blue top that showed off her trim figure. She let her hair down straight. She was sat in front of a mirror applying lipstick when her cell phone started to ring. She smiled as she answered it.

"Heya," she said cheerfully. "I'm just getting ready." Her smile soon faded and a look of disappointment washed across her. She placed the lipstick back on the table and took a tissue and started wiping the makeup off her face.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>Jill was sat in the S.T.A.R.S. office still dressed in her civilian clothes. She had the office all to herself; hardly anyone came in at the weekend. She sipped a cup of coffee as she scanned through pages on her computer. She was looking at a database of symbols and logos of all known groups, organisations and entities in the hope of finding one that looked similar to the one she saw on the back of that Southern American soldier, Carlos, in the street just after his friends took out the Licker. So far she was having no luck.<p>

The office door opened and Jill looked over to see Chris step inside. He was also dressed in civilian clothes of jeans and a plain green t-shirt.

"Hey," he said. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Same to you," Jill said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, just came to steal some mouse pads. So… pretend you never saw me."

"Done," Jill chuckled as she looked back at her screen.

"What are you working on?" Chris asked, taking a look over her shoulder.

"I'm trying to identify the logo I saw on those G.I. Joes who stole the Licker's body."

"Oh your army buddies?" Chris asked, leaning closer to the screen. "Had any luck?"

"Zilch," Jill muttered. Chris nodded for a moment before leaning over and turning off her computer. "Hey!"

"Sorry to have to say this but you look like crap," Chris took her hand and pulled her out of her chair. "I'm getting you some fresh air, stat."

"Can't you just steal supplies and go home?" Jill asked feebly.

"Sorry; annoying you is a much more enjoyable activity."

Chris took Jill outside and the two started walking through the streets. It was a pleasantly warm day and people were cleaning up after the festival. Flyers were put in the trash, stalls were dismantled and closed roads were reopened. The action the night before had delayed these tasks from being completed. Chris and Jill walked past a magazine stand where the Raccoon Press newspaper had the headline 'Terror at Festival' written in bold across the front page. Jill looked away from it as if it were mocking her.

"What do you think's going to happen?" Jill asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that everything seems to have been resolved. Our bad guy's dead, our monster's been vanquished… everything seems to be tied up with a neat little bow."

"I guess it has," Chris said.

"Do you really believe that?" asked Jill. "What do you really think will happen now?"

"Seems to me that life will go on," Chris shrugged.

"I don't think it will though," Jill stopped and looked up at him. "There is some paramilitary organisation out there who took down that monster as easily as if they were shooting fish in a barrel."

"We all softened it up for them, though," Chris noted.

"That's not the point. They were totally unfazed by it and just acted like it killing it was just business to them."

"I don't get what you're saying," Chris said.

"What if that is their business?" Jill stood closer and looked around cautiously. "Taking out monsters? What if they're some sort of monster hunters who swoop in from the shadows and take out all of the dangers?"

"Like Buffy?"

"I'm serious," Jill hit him in the arm. "If there is a group as organised as that one who deal with these monsters then it'd be safe to assume that there are more of those things out there. The solider, Carlos, told me that he owed me a favour for helping take out the Licker. What do you think he meant by that if all this was over? What if there are more monsters out there? If more Lickers turn up then that makes me want to get the hell out of Raccoon City. What if this isn't the end, Chris? What if the Licker is just the beginning?"

"Look," Chris stood close to Jill, resting his hands on her shoulders. "There is a lot of unexplained stuff going on and I think that if you try and work it out in your head too much you'll start to go crazy. I admit an organisation like the one you saw seems to suggest that there is more to this than meets the eye but we shouldn't worry about it. They seem to have everything under control."

"Hardly," Jill pushed his hands off her shoulders. "They waited until we did all of the work before swooping in. They're the clean-up crew, disposing of all of the evidence of foul play."

"Do you really think that someone made that guy transform into a Licker?" Chris asked. "You know that sounds crazy."

"But what if I'm right, Chris?" Jill had a look of serious fear in her eyes. Chris put his hand to her cheek.

"Whatever happens, whatever comes our way, whatever we have to do to protect this city we'll do it together. We always do."

Jill smiled and put her hand on his. They stood there for a moment before Chris took his hand away.

"Let's go get something to eat," Chris suggested, holding out his arm. "It must work up quite an appetite being as crazy as you are." Jill let out a laugh and took his arm. The two continued walking down the street, chatting together in a livelier manner than before.

As they walked they were unaware they were being watched by a tall woman. She wore nothing but red and smoked a cigarette as she watched them walk by on the other side of the street. She let her cigarette fall to the floor and it landed on a discarded flyer that advertised the Umbrella Corporation. She stamped out the cigarette, tearing apart the Umbrella logo on the paper before walking away.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere deep underground in a long dark corridor, Yoko Suzuki was pushing a gurney that was surrounded by a plastic bubble, an isolation unit. The wheels squeaked as they turned, the noise resonating faintly down the corridor.<p>

"Yoko," a voice behind her called out. She turned to see Richard Jaeger and smiled warmly at him. He smiled back as he joined her, looking through the isolation unit at what was on the gurney. He shook his head as his smile broadened. "This is incredible isn't it?"

"We've been very fortunate to get this specimen," she agreed. "The things we can learn from it, the knowledge it contains will be absolutely priceless."

"It is magnificent," said Jaeger. "I just can't believe our luck,"

"Neither can I," said another voice. The two looked up and saw a figure walking toward them. It was Albert Wesker. "I hope you two realise how fortunate you were today."

"There's no need to give me the 'reckless' speech, Albert. William already did that."

"And so he should have," he said, glancing down at the specimen. "William and I were taught by James Marcus himself; we learnt how to be restrained, how to make good decisions based on good judgement. You showed no signs of that when you decided to release the B.O.W. into the field."

"I may have acted rash in your books since I wasn't taught by the great James Marcus but even so, you being taught by him didn't stop you from stabbing him in the back now did it?" Jaeger grinned. Wesker shot him an ambiguous look. It was hard to tell what he was feeling with those sunglasses on. "At least everything I've done I've been totally up front about it from the beginning."

"Watch your tone," Wesker warned.

"The past is in the past, Albert, and we have what we need right here. It won't happen again."

"I don't see why you couldn't have done any of this in a lab," Wesker said. "Irons was fuming that we lost three officers. I had to put on a show for the benefit of the others, too."

"A lab is not the best environment for our work," Jaeger said. "The work we do cannot be restricted. The more we try to control it the more it will try and break out. But rest assured we won't be doing anything to displease you, Irons or Birkin anytime soon."

"That's good," Wesker said. "I don't like cleaning up after your mess. I had to intercept the videotapes in the hospital before anyone else got a look at them. I also had to make sure that Chad Elliott ended up dead, cutting all loose ends."

"Such a shame," Jaeger sighed. "He would have made an excellent subject. Still we've got a good one right here."

He gestured to the body of Kevin Ryman, which was lying in the isolation chamber.

"So rare do we find a subject that was exposed to the virus while they were still alive," Jaeger said. "Who knows the implications of what we may discover?"

"Well let us know your findings," Wesker said. "Hopefully some good can come out of all this mess. And don't let anymore B.O.W.'s out of their cage. You understand?"

Jaeger nodded and went with Yoko as they continued to go down the corridor. They were watched by Wesker as they went through a large automatic door. After they stepped inside the door closed behind them. It had the logo of the Umbrella Corporation painted brightly on it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thank you for reading! This is based around the idea of what Resident Evil would be like if it were a television show. I would be interested in continuing the story as I have quite a few ideas but I suppose that depends on you.<em>**

**_I am writing this to practice my writing style. I want to learn and improve my skills as I write so please let me know what you think of it in a review or a private message so I can try and make things better for the next instalment. If it is popular enough I have five more stories planned that will lead up to the mansion._**

**_So in short, please let me know what you thought of it. I'd love to hear any and all criticisms so that I can improve!_**

**_Thanks for reading!_**


	2. G

**SPENCER BUILDING, RACCOON CITY**

* * *

><p>In Raccoon City's business district there stood a building that was older and taller than the buildings that surrounded it. The Spencer Building had been constructed in the 60s by renowned architect George Trevor and it was special in that it looked both modern and antique. The ground floor had large rectangular windows that allowed people to see from many angles into the reception area, giving the main entrance a grand feel. As you went up to one of the building's twenty-two floors, the outside architecture was quite gothic in style with large stone pillars cutting up even more large glass windows. On the seventeenth floor a young woman was looking out of one of these windows as she drank a cup of coffee.<p>

She was tall, blonde and wore a sharp business suit. She was leaning against a large conference table as she looked out at the view of Raccoon City. The Arklay Mountains could be seen in the distance, setting a picturesque scene of mankind meeting nature. She drank her coffee as she savoured the view as she always did at this time of the day. She drank from her favourite mug that had been made by her niece; it had a crude painting of a butterfly on it. A speech bubble came from the butterfly with the words "Happy Birthday Auntie Gloria" written in it.

The door to the conference room opened and a man stepped inside.

"There you are, Gloria," he said, closing the door behind him. "I wondered where you'd got to."

"I take a break in here every day at the exact same time without fail," Gloria said without looking away from the window. "You don't need to be a rocket scientist to see the pattern, Dan."

"You know, I hear rocket science isn't actually as hard as people think," Dan said, walking over to Gloria and stopping just beside her.

"Well then why are you an administrative accountant and not a rock star scientist?" she asked, placing her cup down on the table and looking over to him. "Don't tell me that this is your passion because I'll know for a fact that that is a lie. There's nothing to get passionate about with this job."

"I said that it wasn't that hard but I never said I was smart enough to do it," Dan replied. "And I wouldn't say that there's nothing to get passionate about with this job…"

"Oh yeah?" Gloria looked over to him with a playful grin.

"Yeah," Dan nodded, stepping closer. "I think it's easy to get passionate about the people that you're with."

Gloria looked at him expressionless for a moment as his statement hung in the air. She then cracked a smile and snorted a laugh, covering her face as she chuckled.

"Oh my God," she laughed. "You nearly had me there."

"I should act in movies, me," Dan said.

"You're such a dork!" Gloria chuckled, looking away from him to stop herself laughing.

As she looked away, Dan put his hand over her cup of coffee and dropped a small capsule into it. The capsule dissolved within seconds.

"So what's up?" Gloria asked after composing herself. "Why'd you come in here, aside to earn a sexual harassment suit? I'm on my break here." She put her fingers round her cup and lifted it, holding it close to her chest.

"I just wanted to give you a heads up; the budget meeting is starting in ten minutes. I think Henry will want his meeting room back." Gloria sighed and lifted her coffee up to her mouth.

"These meetings are the bane of my existence," she said as she put the cup to her lips and drank the rest of her coffee as Dan watched attentively. Gloria noticed and frowned.

"What are you looking at?"

"You look so sexy when you drink," Dan replied. Gloria started laughing again and handed the empty cup over to Dan.

"Oh my God you are so cringe worthy! Here; take this you creep and I'll get everything set up."

"Sure," Dan said, taking the cup from her and heading over to the door. He looked back before he left. "I'll give you a hand in just a moment."

After leaving the conference room Dan went to the employee kitchen, moving through an office with wood panelled walls and light blue carpeted floors. Down a corridor and through one large square room that was packed full of desks that had people working on computers and talking on telephones, Dan made it to the kitchen where he rinsed Gloria's coffee cup thoroughly. He then turned around to make sure that no one was watching before he smashed the cup in the sink, shattering it into pieces. He then took the ceramic shards and placed them in the bin, burying them down deep underneath some plastic storage bags he retrieved from the refrigerator. Taking one last look around, Dan left the kitchen and headed back to the conference room.

He did not realise that he left a shard of ceramic sitting in the sink.

Fifteen minutes later, in the conference room, Gloria was sat toward the back near the window taking notes as the speaker, Henry, was stood at the front, talking about a set of graphs that were being displayed on a projector screen. Dan was sat at the other end of the table, glancing over at her occasionally.

As Henry discussed the company's economic successes for the year so far, Gloria began feeling quite warm all of a sudden so she undid on of the buttons on her blouse to try and cool off. She continued to make notes and attempted to concentrate but she began to feel unwell. She looked over to the tray that held glasses of water and leant over the table to take one as Dan watched. Her mouth was very dry and she quenched her thirst by drinking the entire glass in one breath. As she placed it back down when she was done, she did it in a slightly heavier handed manner than she had intended to, earning a few glances by the meeting's attendees. As she took her hand away from the glass it trembled. She looked at it for a moment before the person next to her whispered light-heartedly in her ear that she needed to lay off the coffee. Gloria forced a polite smile before grabbing her trembling with her other one, resting them both in her lap.

Her forehead was brim with sweat her breaths were suddenly becoming quite short and laboured. She began feeling sick. She felt a burning sensation rise up through her body as if she was going to vomit so she stood up and clumsily excused herself, hurrying out of the conference room as everyone watched. Dan stood up, saying he would check if she was alright but Henry forced him to sit back down. As Dan took his seat, he glanced to the empty door with a concerned look on his face.

Gloria made her way through the corridor past the main office workspace and reached the women's bathroom. It was small with a couple of sinks and toilet stalls. She stumbled over to one of the sinks and retched into it. She stood over the sink for a few moments, heaving but not vomiting. She spat out small amounts of blood instead.

Looking worried, Gloria ran the cold water and washed away the blood before splashing water on her face. She washed her face several times before looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was running and her hands trembled as she held them by her face. She looked like hell. She grabbed some paper towels and wiped away all of her makeup to take a good look at herself. She was very pale and her eyes were bloodshot.

Gloria felt a sudden surge of pain build up in her body, making her let out a cry and stumble back slightly. She stood looking at herself and tore open her blouse to see what was causing her to hurt. She saw a lump forming on her chest. Awestruck, she stared at it for a moment before it moved, sending shooting stabs of pain throughout her body making her fall back into one of the toilet stalls.

She convulsed slightly as she tried to control her pain, letting out cries as she clutched her chest. Gloria recoiled suddenly and smashed her head into the back of the toilet stall, leaving a bloody mark. She then got up, holding into the tissue dispenser and tearing it from the stall before she managed to leave the bathroom.

Gloria cried in pain as she staggered across the main work floor earning confused and worried looks from her co-workers. She clutched her chest as the pain intensified. Gloria arched over as she moved, spitting out some more blood onto the floor, causing those who were going over to help her to jump back. The noise she was making caused people in private offices to open their doors to see what was going on. The door to the conference room that she had just been in was opened by Dan as she was going past it.

Seeing him, Gloria stumbled over to him and pushed him aside as she went into the conference room. Everyone stood back as she knocked over the projector screen and pushed past chairs, making her way to the back of the room. She reached the glass and stopped suddenly, breathlessly leaning against it. Dan made a few steps over to her and saw the lump on her chest that was growing larger before his eyes. She looked at everyone, clearly distressed and let out a feeble plea.

"Please help me," she gasped without any breath before letting out another cry of pain. She lost control of her body and her head smashed into the glass causing a large, bloody crack to form. Stumbling away from the window, Gloria was able to control herself long enough to let out a final cry as she ran for the window.

The glass shattered as she went through it and started falling to the ground. The wind flowed nicely through her hair and over her skin, making the pain subside as she fell. The breeze made her feel less breathless as air rushed straight into her lungs. She felt cooler, relaxed and comfortable. Her body turned as she fell, now facing upward, looking at the sky and the shards of glass that were falling above her. They twinkled in the sunlight, making Gloria smile as the nice sight before turning back to face the ground just as she was about it hit it.

Gloria's body smashed into a parked car, setting off the alarm and causing bystanders to look over in horror at the sight. A woman let out a loud scream that could be heard up where Gloria had jumped. The car she crashed into was parked near a sign for the building.

The sign read "Spencer Building – Umbrella Corporation Administrative Department" with the logo of Umbrella boldly displayed beneath it.

_Quarantine Alpha_

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON PARK CEMETERY<strong>

* * *

><p>It was the funeral service for Officer Kevin Ryman. He was being laid to rest just after midday and the turnout was, at first glance, quite impressive. Chairs had been set up beside the open grave that the casket was ready to be lowered into. Occupying the chairs were Ryman's family and friends and fellow officers. Chief of Police Brian Irons was stood in the crowd next to S.T.A.R.S. Captain's Albert Wesker and Enrico Marini. Wesker had removed his sunglasses out of respect for the family. Mayor Michael Warren was also in attendance, sat next to Ryman's mother. The Mayor's presence attracted a lot of onlookers and media attention. The press could be seen just outside the cemetery's perimeter and the sounds of camera snaps could be heard in the distance.<p>

The reverend was delivering a speech about Ryman, talking as best he could over the snaps of her paparazzi. He was stood in front of a small stage that had been set up to hold a large array of flowers dedicated to the deceased. A large photograph of Ryman taken when he had graduated from the police academy was also on display. He was smiling out at the crowd. The reverend had started to wrap the service up, bringing his speech about Ryman's work, his dedication and his courage to a close. It all felt rather clinical and not too personal.

A man dressed in police dress uniform started playing "Amazing Grace" on a set of bagpipes as the casket started to sink into the ground. An American flag was folded and given to Ryman's mother as she began to weep, holding onto her husband for support. Mayor Warren put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, making sure to hold it there long enough for the distant paparazzi cameras to see. This was why he was there after all; not to pay his respects to the man who had saved his life but to milk the PR opportunity, or at least that was what one person who was stood apart from the main service thought.

Barry Burton was standing underneath a cypress tree, the only one in the cemetery, watching the service. He was aggravated by the reverend's speech; it lacked any personality and was very general. He was irritated by Mayor Warren; his presence attracted the paparazzi and he was exploiting the pain of Ryman's family for his own political gain. He was frustrated at the whole situation; Barry felt that the funeral was one great big media circus and wanted no part of it. This is why he stood watching from a distance dressed in his dark mourning suit that did not really fit him anymore. His shirt was not tucked in to his trousers, his top button not done up and his jacket was open, flapping slightly in the wind.

The casket was lowered into the ground and the service brought to a close. The attendees started to leave following Ryman's family and the mayor as they went to the exit of the cemetery. They were forced to stop and give a statement to the press. Barry felt angry and turned to leave, heading to a different exit as he pulled off his tie and stuffed it into his pocket.

Slamming the door shut of his car he sat behind the wheel in silence for a moment, supressing the feeling of anger that was building inside him. He did not know where it was coming from; he was unhappy with how Ryman's send-off but he shouldn't be this agitated, surely? He sighed angrily and turned on the engine of his car and drove away at great speed, his tyres screeching on the asphalt leaving skid marks in their wake.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>Stood in the underground firing range of the police department were Chris Redfield and Forest Speyer. Both were armed with their Samurai Edge pistols and were aiming down range. They were waiting for their signal to start shooting. Both men had firm grips and steady hands.<p>

A loud buzz sounded and targets began popping up. Some were of enemies holding knives or guns and others were of civilians who posed no threat at all. Chris and Forest began shooting, unloading an entire clip each at their targets before the buzz sounded again. The two placed their weapons on the table, removed their ear plugs and looked to each other.

"Looks like I beat you again, Redfield," Forest said with a smirk, gesturing to his targets. He had hit all of the enemy targets and spared all of the civilian ones. His shots landed either in the head or chest where the heart would be. Chris' targets were mostly shot at incapacitating points, like arms or legs. They were injuries that if made on a real person, would cause them to be taken down but still survive.

"Yeah," Chris said as he pushed the recall button to have the targets taken away. "You sure killed them…"

"Damn straight I did," Forest said, smacking Chris on the back as he holstered his weapon. "I'm quick; I'm sharp; I'm a hard-ass killing machine!"

"No, Forest, you're just an ass," Chris said with a smile. "I'm surprised there's enough room for both of us in here when we've got your ego to contend with."

"Don't be jealous of my talents, Redfield. With enough practice I'm sure you can be as good as I am but there's no need to be snippy. I can't help it if God decided to make me the shining example of excellence for S.T.A.R.S. now can I?"

"I guess I can't," Chris chuckled. "I suppose that's why you're in the Bravo team?" He emphasised "Bravo", earning a playful smile from Forest.

"Touché," was all he could say.

The two signed out of the room and then left, walking through the underground corridors of the basement level. Chris and Forest walked side by side, as they continued talking.

"So have you made a move on the new girl yet?"

"The new girl? Oh you mean the eighteen-year-old Rebecca Chambers?" Chris spoke rhetorically, shooting a sly glance at Forest to encourage him to learn her name. "No, I haven't."

"You're taking your time," Forest commented.

"Believe it or not I have other things to do than try and date a teenager. My job for example."

"Hey I do my job," Forest protested. "And eighteen is legal!"

"Yeah well I've got no interest in dating someone I work with," Chris said with a definitive tone. "It always leads to problems."

"Your loss, buddy," Forest shrugged.

"My loss?" Chris laughed. "You honestly think you'd have a chance?"

"The women love me," Forest told him. "It's like a curse or something."

"Curse for them, maybe," Chris muttered. "Why are you asking if I'm interested anyway? I'd have thought you'd be happy to have no competition."

"Don't get ideas above your station there, Redfield," Forest chuckled. "You are no competition. Still, having no other players on the field takes the fun out of the sport."

Chris frowned.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say but stop calling me Redfield," he said as they turned another corner and passed the coroner, Dr Deacon, in the hall as he was wheeling a body that was in a bag that was resting on a gurney.

"Hey, doc," said Forest. "What's in the bag?"

"It's a Maserati," Deacon snapped, looking wearily at him. "What the hell do you think it is?"

"Your manners?" Forest said in reply. Chris rolled his eyes.

"You're the last person to talk to someone about manners, Forest. You okay, Doctor Deacon?"

"I'm fine thank you, Chris," Deacon said as he pushed the gurney into the morgue. Chris gestured to Forest, referencing that that was how to say his name. They were about to leave when he spotted the tag saying where the body had come from displayed on the bag. Confused, Chris followed Deacon into the morgue while Forest watched slightly begrudgingly.

"You got this body from the Spencer Building?" Chris asked. "That's way across town!"

"What can I tell you?" Deacon shrugged. "Some idiot over in the other precinct flipped the wrong switch or something and their morgue's been shut down. They can't keep the cadavers cool."

"That must be quite the smell," Forest commented, following Chris into the morgue.

"It stinks for me because I'm getting corpses from all over the city now," Deacon snapped. "I'm not paid enough to pick up other people's slack. I'm up to my neck in bodies for God's sake!"

"Well times are tough nowadays I suppose, but we'll get out of your hair," said Chris, turning to leave and pushing Forest out of the room first. He looked back at Deacon to say goodbye. "Good luck with the bodies. Catch you later, doc."

"Yeah, yeah," Deacon muttered as he unzipped the bag.

Chris and Forest emerged from the basement and began walking through the ground floor of the police precinct.

"Why is he so mad all the time?" Forest asked. "The guy could use a personality, pronto."

"He's just stressed," said Chris. "Plus he hates you so I can relate." The two shared a laugh as they continued on their way to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Inside the office, Rebecca Chambers was sat at her desk trying to access a file on her computer. Each time she tried a message kept popping up saying her access was denied. She let out an irritated sigh, causing Richard Aiken to look over at her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rebecca said, massaging her temples. "My credentials haven't been put through all of the systems yet so I'm still getting locked out of certain areas. Captain Marini said he'd get this fixed for me…"

"The system's probably just being slow," Richard said, getting up and moving over to Rebecca's desk. Joseph Frost looked up from his work as he saw Richard move over to Rebecca's computer. "Mind if I…?"Richard asked before Rebecca gestured for him to use her computer, sliding her chair to the side so that he could access it. "Our computers are really slow," Richard went on. "I guess you'll have to get used to them."

"When I started college they had just upgraded all of the computer systems so I'm not used to having to wait."

"Raccoon City isn't Cambridge; in small towns like these you gotta be patient," Richard smiled at her as he typed a few commands into the machine. "I'm gonna see if I can get you a little work around so you can bypass security authentication."

"And there was me thinking that Forest was the cool tech guy on your team," Joseph said from behind his desk on the other side of the room.

"Forest would have you believe that he's the God of S.T.A.R.S. if he could," Richard replied, typing commands into the computer.

"So you're saying he's a fraud?" Joseph asked.

"No," Richard said cautiously. "I am saying that he's not the only one who can fix a computer."

"That's right," Joseph sat back in his chair, twisting a pen in his fingers. "Because I seem to remember him helping you do a similar work around when you first started."

"Hey," Richard called over slightly defensively. "I learn things!"

Rebecca's computer made an unhealthy beeping sound and the screen turned blue with error messages displaying.

"Oh God," Richard muttered.

"You don't learn that much, then," Joseph commented, refraining from chuckling.

"What did you do?" Rebecca asked, slightly exasperatedly.

"Don't worry, I can fix it," Richard said.

"Funny, that's what you were doing when you broke it," Rebecca said.

"Don't worry, I think I can do it."

"Oh yeah that fills me with confidence!" Rebecca cried. "Let's go to the IT guys, they'll fix this and I'm blaming you if my machine is fried. Come on."

Rebecca stood up and dragged Richard with her as she left the room. Joseph chuckled quietly to himself as he watched them leave. Jill Valentine looked over from her desk with a light-hearted smile on her face.

"Leave the guy be, Joseph," she said. "He's just trying to help her out." Brad Vickers glanced up from his work to listen.

"Help her?" Joseph chuckled. "More like help himself get into her pants."

"Oh come on!" Jill said.

"It's true," said Kenneth Sullivan over on Bravo's side. "You can tell he wants her."

"And how can you tell?" Jill asked sarcastically.

"The way he swoops in to solve a minor issue," Kenneth said with a chuckle. "Oh yeah, it's on. Any guy who fixes a woman's computer wants to get with her."

"Yeah but there's no chance he'll get her," Edward Dewey told them. "Forest is all over her; he's claimed her already. I bet when he and Chris went on their break to the shooting range they were contesting to see who would win her."

"This is ridiculous!" Jill said, struggling not to laugh at the situation. "When was the last time any of you got laid? I mean, seriously, a female walks into the office and all the guys start drooling over her."

"Well Brad hasn't," Kenneth commented.

"Got laid before or started drooling?" Edward offered, sharing a laugh with Kenneth and Joseph.

"Hang on," Jill held up her hand. "Now obviously something's changed here; on my first day no one wanted to mount me. You were all professional."

"Yeah but you're scary," said Kenneth, sharing another laugh with Edward and Joseph.

"I'm not scary."

"You are," Kenneth nodded.

"You kind of are," Edward seconded.

"No I'm not!" Jill insisted, turning to Brad. "Brad; do you think I'm scary?"

"Brad finds his own shadow scary," Forest said as he stepped into the room with Chris. "Probably not the best person to ask."

"Ah, Forest, you're the perfect person to ask."

"Maybe, Valentine. What do you need?"

"Okay, first; don't call me Valentine and second; when I first started did you think I was scary?"

"You were weird," Forest said. "But in a good way. In an "I'd-hit-that" kind of way."

"You're a pig," Jill shook her head with a smirk, looking back at her computer. "You all are."

"I'm going to abstain from making a squealing joke," Forest muttered under his breath as he went to his desk. Jill screwed up a ball of paper and threw it at him, hitting him in the head causing it to bounce off, hitting Edward.

"Oh yeah!" Jill cried. "Two in one!" She stood up, faced Chris and they high fived each other enthusiastically.

"What did we miss?" Chris asked as he went to his desk and sat down.

"We were talking about how bad Richard wants Chambers and it sort of led to a group discussion on how scary Jill is," Edward told him.

"A gathering of the minds, then," Chris commented slyly.

"They had to cut their chat short to attend their Mensa meeting," Jill joked.

"So what are you saying?" Forest asked Edward, sitting next to him. "Richard's interested in Chambers?"

As Edward and Forest continued to act like melodramatic soap opera characters, Chris leant over to Jill to whisper to her.

"Has Barry not come back yet?" he asked. Jill's smile faded and she leant close to him.

"Not yet," Jill said, picking up a biro pen, fiddling with it. "But then again I can't say I'm surprised. I mean what did I say? I told you he wouldn't be in today. It's Kevin Ryman's funeral."

"He didn't even like the guy," Chris muttered. "I can understand Wesker and Enrico being forced to attend but not Barry."

"What can I say?" Jill shrugged. "He's been off ever since he died."

"I don't see why he should be so upset about it, though. I mean it's been three weeks now and he just seems to be getting worse and worse for no reason. Forgive me if I sound harsh but they weren't friends, they hardly knew each other. It's just weird."

"There's obviously something more going on," Jill said.

"Should we talk to him about it?"

"Never heard you express concern like that before," said Jill with a smile. Chris sat back in his chair, clearly troubled by Barry's recent actions. Jill sighed, dropped her pen onto the table and sat forward, close to him. "Look Chris, I don't know Barry as well as you do. You two were in the Air Force together so I'm sure you've got this wonderful bond and all that baloney. Having said that; even I know that talking to him, putting him on the spot and prying into his problems wouldn't be a good idea: you need to wait for him to come to you. If you try and talk to him about anything he'll just shut down and then things will get awkward... When he's ready, he'll talk. And if he doesn't talk he'll just sort this stuff out on his own like a real man."

"I hope you're right," Chris said, offering a faint smile at Jill's joke.

"I'm always right," Jill smiled back, hitting him in the arm gently. "Now man up and help me with these risk reports."

Back down in the basement, Barry walked past the morgue to go into the locker rooms to change into his S.T.A.R.S. uniform. He still looked angry but he had calmed down during his drive over. Down the hall away from the locker room and inside the morgue, Dr Deacon was unzipping the bag that held the body of Gloria Steel, the woman who jumped to her death from the Spencer Building. It was not a pretty sight; the front of her body was mangled and crushed due to the force of smashing into the car. Deacon pulled her from the bag and gave her a quick visual examination. He noticed the large lump on her chest and inspected it more closely. Intrigued, Deacon took some surgical scissors to cut away her bloody blouse so that he could get a clearer look. It appeared to be some sort of tumour but from the looks of strain on the skin it appeared to have developed incredibly quickly. Deacon turned to get another tool. With his back turned he did not see the crushed lump wiggle slightly.

In the locker room, Barry had got changed and securely holstered his .44 Magnum. He did not feel like being here today. He left the locker room and walked past the morgue, heading to the stairs that would take him back up into the station. As he went to turn a corner he heard a cry that caused him to stop. He looked back. It had come from the morgue. Narrowing his eyes, Barry went back.

"Hello?" he called out, slowly heading to the doors. "Doctor Deacon? Are you okay?" Barry reached the heavy doors and slowly pushed one open. As he did he saw something flash at him. He jumped back as something quick scurried around his legs and down the corridor. Barry looked in time to something small and red turn a corner and go out of sight, leaving a thin red trail. He looked back as the door was still flapping and saw Dr Deacon with his back pressed against the wall. Barry went inside and looked at the doctor. He looked terrified.

"Doc, what was…?" Barry asked but lost his trail of thought as he looked at the body of Gloria Steel on the table. The lump on her chest was no longer there.

Instead there was a hole where something had torn its way out from inside her body.

* * *

><p>Chris and Jill had joined Barry outside the morgue. Dr Deacon gave them an account of what had happened; some creature suddenly burst from what appeared to be a tumour in Gloria Steel's chest. Barry had chased after it, following the thin blood trail it left behind but the trail stopped just short of the room that allowed maintenance access to the building's ventilation network. The door had been left open by someone and inside there was evidence that one of the mesh barriers that stopped things from getting into the small ventilation ducts had been broken down, meaning whatever had burst from Gloria Steel could be anywhere in the building.<p>

Acting fast, Barry alerted Wesker who had called for the entire police station to be locked down. In an emergency the entire ventilation network could be sealed via the network room, meaning that nothing could get in or out at least through the vents. It was a system implemented to stop biological contagions from passing through the building. Wesker was in a meeting with Enrico and Irons apprising them both of the situation while Barry swapped theories with Chris and Jill.

"What kind of animal can burst through a woman's ribcage?" Jill wondered.

"I heard that one time," Chris said, "in New York, a homeless guy was picked up by the coroner and when they got him to the morgue they found eight mice inside him. Eight!"

There was a brief moment of silence.

"We'll put a pin in the mouse theory for now," said Barry, "right now we have to find where that thing is."

"You think it's still dangerous?" Chris asked.

"It's quick and ripped through someone's chest," said Jill. "I think now it's in an open environment it's a hell of a lot more dangerous. Did you ever see that movie Alien?"

"Do you think this is going to turn into another…?" Chris trailed off, looking at the others. He didn't want to say it. "You know… A situation…"

"The Licker?" Barry finished for him.

"Yeah," Chris nodded.

"I don't know," Barry shook his head. "We don't know what really created the Licker but I think it's safe to assume it didn't burst out of someone's chest. Still, let's not let it get that far. Let's just find it and kill it! We can worry about its origins later." Jill gave Barry an uncomfortable look as he spoke. He sounded quite aggressive.

"I'll go upstairs and round the rest of S.T.A.R.S. up to lead searches through the station," Chris said, turning on his heel and running toward the stairs, leaving Jill and Barry on their own. Jill decided to speak with him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Barry said, frowning at her. "Why?"

"Well, you know, today was Kevin's funeral and you've been a little… off."

"I'm fine," Barry said. "Really." Jill gave him a look to indicate that she did not believe him. "Jill we can have a slumber party where we talk about our feelings later; right now I just want to do my job."

"I know," Jill said. "I'm not saying that you don't. All I'm saying is that you're acting slightly weird. You've been this way since the festival." Barry took a step over to Jill, getting close to her face.

"I don't need to explain myself to you."

Barry stepped around Jill and walked off down the corridor. She watched him as a cold chill ran down her spine.

* * *

><p>Two floors up, meanwhile, Wesker and Enrico Marini were in Chief Brian Irons' office sitting opposite his desk. They had come straight from Ryman's funeral service so they were all still dressed in their funeral attire. Wesker had just relayed the information that Barry had given him regarding what had happened in the morgue.<p>

"S.T.A.R.S. will organise search parties to try and catch this… animal," Wesker said. "Brad has pinpointed likely places it would emerge from the ventilation system so we'll start in those surrounding areas."

"Likely places?" Enrico repeated. "How did he determine that?"

"It's just somewhere to start. Anyway short of closing down the whole station Barry has sealed the vents from the outside so we've got it contained n the building. It might get a little hot but we'll be able to manage."

"You seem to be taking extreme measures to catch an oversized rat," said Irons as he sat in his leather swivel chair, rocking it side to side gently.

"If I may," Enrico spoke up, "if we're dealing with something that car tear its way out of a person's body I think it'd be better safe than sorry."

"I suppose you're right, Enrico," Irons sighed. "Lord knows we can't have any more officers dying due to encounters with monsters, not after Ryman's funeral. Go out and help coordinate the search efforts; I'd feel better to have you overlooking the operation. If you can try not to cause too great a disturbance; I don't want the public to start panicking."

"I'll do my best, Chief," Enrico said. Irons gave him a wave, signalling he could go. Enrico shared a look with Wesker before standing and leaving the room with great haste; he hated being there. As soon as the door was shut Wesker sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How the hell does something like this happen?"

"Who knows?" Irons shrugged. He stopped rocking in his chair and lifted his left leg over his right. "It's not as if someone can catch this thing as they would a cold. They must have been exposed intentionally."

"I mean how does a B.O.W. specimen get out into world again so soon after the last incident?" Wesker elaborated. "I mean it's like Jaeger wasn't even made an example out of."

"He wasn't," Irons told him. Wesker gave him a shocked look. "He was given a slap on the wrist and that was it."

"Well that's brilliant," Wesker sat back in his chair. "They may have well sent letters around to all of the scientists encouraging them to release these monsters into the population. What's frustrating is that it'll be more difficult to try and determine who is responsible with this incident."

"What do you mean?"

"Well the last incident was Jaeger's project and very few people worked on it so it was simple to determine. This incident is Birkin's G project and he has a hell of a lot of people working under him."

"You don't think it was Birkin do you?"

"Are you kidding?" Wesker let out a single snicker. "He was enraged when he discovered that Richard Jaeger's specimen was tearing up local hospitals. There's no way he'd do this. He and Annette have spent the past ten years working on this project. They as devoted to it as they're devoted to Sherry."

"They're alcoholics?" Irons leant forward, surprised.

"Sherry's their daughter," Wesker told him.

"Oh," Irons sat back. He cleared his throat before going on. "Well then we need to round up a list of suspects. Go to the Hive and get a list of everyone who has access to Birkin's lab. Send two of your goons to the Spencer Building to see if they can get a list of people who were working there when that woman killed herself. If we're lucky we'll get a match."

"Good idea," Wesker stood up. "I'll get changed and head over there immediately."

"I don't think you have the luxury of time," Irons told him. "I've read Birkin's reports; they indicate what we've got running around the station isn't going to stay the size it's at for long. If you find the guy who's responsible quickly enough we can prevent it from happening again and keep it controlled."

"Alright," Wesker said, turning and heading to the door. As he was about to open it, Irons stopped him yet again.

"I hear that the morgue in the station across town has had some sort of technical difficulties."

"I think they had a power cut," Wesker said, looking back. "They can't cool the bodies."

"You realise if that morgue had been running as it should have been then they would have got the body and we would not have been able to contain this thing as well as we have."

"Yes," Wesker said heavily. "I do realise that." He opened the door and left the office. Irons watched the door for a moment before he starting rocking in his chair again, putting his fingertips together as he started thinking.

* * *

><p>In the main hall of the police precinct, several officers were gathered around Brad and Joseph who were handing out maps with likely creature locations. They were speaking in hushed tones as there were civilians nearby who did not need to know that something was running through the vents. Officers were being sent off in pairs to go check out one of Brad's locations. Chris was walking over to Brad, saying hello to Richard and Rebecca who had just been assigned their place to look when he heard Jill call his name. He turned around and saw her hop over one of the banisters near the main entrance and jog over to him. She looked worried.<p>

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Uh, I think you might be right," was his response.

"Okay…" Chris folded his arms. "About…?"

"About Barry," she elaborated. "I spoke to him about feelings and stuff, albeit very briefly and he pretty much tore my head off."

"I see," Chris nodded, thinking for a moment. "Didn't you tell me to leave it?"

"Yeah, I did but damn it; you shouldn't listen to me, Chris! Why did you? I mean you and he went through all that stuff in the Air Force. You should be brothers, bonded by an everlasting… bond."

"Look," Chris put his hands on her shoulders, "We've got a situation here. I'm not sure you're aware; something living burst out of a woman's chest." Jill rolled her eyes at Chris' sarcasm. "We will deal with Barry's various issues after we've caught this mouse thingy. Okay?"

"Redfield, Valentine," Wesker called out from across the hall. Chris took his hands away from Jill hastily and looked over to Wesker, trying to adopt a professional stance. "I want you two to head over to the Spencer Building and look for any clues."

"Wouldn't the scene have been examined already?" Chris asked.

"The woman jumped," Wesker said. "She wasn't pushed. Statements would have been taken and that is all. What I'm thinking is that if she had a creature growing inside her then it could be that someone put it there."

"Someone put it there?" Jill repeated. "Do you think this is like the Licker, too?" Chris gave her a worried look.

"Similar but not related," Wesker said. "Regardless there is obviously something wrong going on in this city and I intend to find out what. I've got a lead of my own to follow up, you two go back to the Spencer Building and compile a list of everyone that our victim was working with today. That'll help us identify who is responsible. I want you to stay there until I contact you, do you understand? See if you can find any other clues."

"Sure," Chris said.

Wesker nodded at them both before hurrying out through the main entrance.

"If you do apprehend the guy don't let him out of your sight; make sure he lives," Wesker said as went out the door. Chris and Jill exchanged nervous looks before following him out.

* * *

><p>Rebecca and Richard were in the cog room of the police station. On the third floor next to the upper section of the library was the room that stood behind the police station's main clock. It was very dusty and felt unstable; the floors and walls were made of old, creaky wood. There was a wooden staircase at the back of the room that allowed access to an upper level that was a catwalk that led to the clock's mechanism. The two had just got inside and were looking for the ventilation ducts to see if it showed any evidence of the animal passing through.<p>

"You gotta love getting the good jobs," Richard joked as he looked along the walls near to the floor. "It doesn't get much more exciting than this."

"Yeah well I'll take this over large monsters any day," Rebecca said, standing in the middle of the room looking around. "Then again I suppose I should be happy that I was given something to do in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Richard asked, shooting her an inquisitive look.

"Well you know," Rebecca gestured vaguely with her hands. "I'm the rookie, the teenage rookie at that. I'm the girl you get to grab the coffees or file the reports and do all the other lame jobs that no one else wants to do."

"Rebecca, you didn't get a Harvard degree to make us coffee," Richard smiled at her. Rebecca smiled back and the two looked at each other for a moment.

Their stare lingered.

"I'll go check upstairs," Richard said after clearing his throat. He moved over toward the stairs.

"Wait," Rebecca grabbed his hand, stopping him. "Those stairs don't look too stable. They look as if they could give way easily; you could hurt yourself. I'm lighter; I should go." Richard looked back at Rebecca and then down at his hand which was still being held by hers. Rebecca suddenly realised what she was doing and quickly let go, blushing heavily. Richard smiled and stepped aside.

"You calling me fat, Chambers?" he joked.

"Well…," Rebecca smiled, "kinda. You're fat-headed."

"Fat-headed?" Richard repeated with a chuckle.

"Yeah, you broke my computer!"

"Fair enough," Richard said, gesturing to the stairs. "They're all yours."

Rebecca grinned as she walked past him and put her foot onto the first wooden step. It made a loud creaking sound. She shared a nervous glance hidden with a smile with Richard but continued to head up them. A few creaks later she had reached the top of the stairs and started walking around the wooden upper area. The floor creaked unsettlingly as she moved and now that Richard could not see her she stopped smiling. Rebecca grabbed onto the metal side railing that rattled in her hands and slowly made her way across to the other side toward a large mechanism that appeared to be the inner workings of the big clock.

"So, uh," Rebecca said nervously as she walked tentatively, "tell me how you became a S.T.A.R.S. guy? I mean you're a little young to be a member of the Special Forces aren't you?"

"Says the girl who skipped high school and went straight to college!"

"It wasn't exactly like that but point taken," Rebecca smiled. "Seriously; what's the story? How old are you? Twenty-three?"

"That's right, I am," Richard said. "I can tell you've been doing your homework." Rebecca chuckled. "But yeah, as for S.T.A.R.S., I dunno, I guess I've been preparing to do this job my whole life. My Dad was a cop on the force and he taught me all the police stuff when I was young, you know; how to shoot, how to defend yourself, how to investigate; all that jazz."

"Sounds like a fun childhood."

"Yeah; it wasn't all bouncy castles and trips to Disneyland," Richard laughed. "But I sailed through my police exams and became a cop at eighteen. It did so well that when S.T.A.R.S. was formed about three years later, Irons hand-picked me to join the team."

"That's pretty impressive. Your Dad must've been proud."

"He would have been," Richard said. "But he died shortly after I became a cop."

"Oh," Rebecca stopped. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," Richard said. "He was sick so we knew it was coming. It's quite hard though; being a cop you protect the public every day and yet in this situation I couldn't protect my own family. Sounds ironically clichéd doesn't it?"

"I know what that's like," Rebecca said. "My Dad died a few years ago too; cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"You know it's funny; I used to not do that well in school. I used to get Cs instead of As. But when my Dad got sick when I was young I started to do really well. I wanted to learn stuff because I wanted to learn how to help my Dad. That's why I as accepted into Harvard when I was really young; because I was ahead of everyone else because I wanted to save my Dad. It's a shame I didn't do it in time…" There was silence.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Richard said. "You can't have done anything."

"I know," Rebecca said, reaching the mechanism. "I know that he would have been proud of me and was happy that I wanted to try and help him but… I just wish I could, you know? It feels like all that time I spent studying was wasted because I didn't help him and I could have used that time to be with him more."

"Maybe look at it this way; he got sick so that you would study and end up working here so that you could help loads of people? There's a reason for everything."

"I guess you're right," Rebecca smiled. "But I don't think searching for oversized rats would be what he would have had in mind."

"Pest control is an important job," Richard joked. "Not as glamorous as being a S.T.A.R.S. agent but it's still perky." Rebecca laughed as she reached the mechanism. There was not a lot to look at; the mechanism was a mix mash of gears and cogs that lay housed in a small groove in the wall. To the right there was an opening and Rebecca walked over toward it.

"I think I found something," she said. She walked past the groove in the wall that housed the clock mechanism to get to it, not seeing what lurked in the shadows behind her. Richard stepped out from underneath the floor panels and looked up at her.

"What do you see?"

"The vent," Rebecca reported, picking up a section of wire mesh. "It's been here."

There was a rustling sound from behind, making Rebecca's heart skip a beat. She turned around and saw a large flesh coloured thing run at her. It was bigger than a rat; it was the size of a dog. She screamed as it pushed past her and went into the vent. Rebecca fell off the upper level and let out a cry. Richard was able to get underneath her and caught her in his arms. Rebecca put her arms around his neck to support herself and she looked at him.

"Thanks," she gasped. Richard held her for a moment before realising the situation they were in. He put her down and picked up his radio.

"Barry; Rebecca and I have just seen the creature enter the ventilation system. The only way it can go now is down to the basement so we can seal it down in there."

"Roger that," Barry responded.

"Oh and one more thing," Richard said, looking at Rebecca nervously.

"It's getting bigger."

* * *

><p><strong>THE HIVE<strong>

* * *

><p>The automatic door opened making an electronic whooshing sound as Wesker approached it, loosening his tie. As he went through it his footsteps echoed on a metallic catwalk as he made his way into a room of incredible size. It was a circular room with cables, pipes and electronics lining the walls. There was a great drop below that was too deep to see the bottom. Up above there was another great height which again faded into darkness. Wesker walked confidently across the echoic catwalks into a small chamber that was built in the centre of the room. The chamber was a long silo that went as high and as low as the room did. Inside were numerous electronic devices, computers and a main power supply in the centre. Blue lights flashed inside the supply indicating that it was working.<p>

Wesker went through this chamber and exited onto another set of catwalks, one of three that flowed from the outer edge of the room. Stepping through another automatic door he made his way into a corridor. It was grey in decoration and very functional. It was not a place of leisure. He walked past people in lab coats, some of whom were engrossed in conversation, some of whom were writing feverishly onto clipboards as they walked. They were all too busy to notice Wesker's funeral attire. He could not have fit in any less but they were all buried in their work and hardly noticed him. Wesker walked past several doors with traditional handles that led to different laboratories. These labs were labelled as "T Processing" and "T Compatibility Assessment". Arriving at the elevator, Wesker pushed the call button and waited for a moment.

As he stood there he heard two people exit the "T Processing" lab, discussing the findings of a recent experiment. One of them mentioned how the killing speed of the specimen has increased by almost thirty per cent, speaking with great enthusiasm and excitement. Wesker sighed, ignoring them as he continued to wait.

The doors opened finally and he went inside. He was taken aback when he saw Richard Jaeger standing in the elevator.

"Afternoon, Albert," Jaeger said with a smile as Wesker went inside without saying hello. He stood next to him and glanced at the floor buttons as the doors closed. "Which floor?"

"The same," Wesker said.

"Ah, very good," Jaeger nodded. "That means we can have a nice chat. We haven't spoken since you told me what I bad boy I was." Wesker remained silent, making Jaeger smile. "Coming in to see your old pal Birkin, then?"

"Well I wouldn't come here to see you would I?"

Jaeger let out a laugh.

"No, quite right…" he smiled. "The only reason you come here, aside from talking to William, is to sort out something that has gone wrong. Tell me; has something happened?"

"Things happen every day, Richard."

"Yes they do," Jaeger folded his arms, leaning against the side of the elevator carriage. "Like Kevin Ryman's funeral." Jaeger looked Wesker up and down, noting his attire. "Did you attend the service?"

"Well I don't dress like this normally."

"I only ask because I was just wondering if it felt… peculiar to mourn an empty casket?"

"I didn't mourn," Wesker replied. "And it wasn't empty; we put another body in there. It's been three weeks and I'm still cleaning up after your mistakes."

"What I did wasn't a mistake, Albert," Jaeger said. "The results we've got so far have proved that."

"And what do you have?"

"Now that would be telling," Jaeger grinned. "You have to buy me a drink before you get to look up my skirt, Albert."

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. It was not their floor, someone else wanted to step inside. Jaeger held up his hand, stopping them from getting aboard.

"You'll get the next one," he said, hitting the door close button. As the elevator continued its descent, Jaeger turned to face Wesker. "So what are you doing here? William's out and you're not involved on any active projects right now so something must have gone wrong."

"None of your concern, Richard," Wesker said.

"Oh but I think it is; you see if you're about to start a witch hunt to try and find someone who has wronged you then I feel that I should protect my colleagues, don't you?"

"Don't give me that crap," Wesker hissed. "You're the one who puts your own interests and the organisation as a whole above everything else."

"Says the man who killed his own mentor," Jaeger spoke snidely. Wesker faced him with a glare in his eye.

"This organisation we are a part of," he said, "it is like a horse; it runs fine until someone screws up. These people are liabilities and liabilities are like lamed legs. A lame leg means the horse gets shot in the head."

"You make it sound wonderfully wicked," Jaeger smiled sarcastically. "So if the company is a horse then what are we? Lowly dogs?"

The elevator stopped and the doors opened on their floor. Wesker moved around Jaeger.

"If I had a dog like you, Jaeger, I'd shoot it." Wesker pushed the button for the top floor before he left the elevator and the doors closed on Jaeger, taking him back up where he had just been. Wesker went on his way as Jaeger folded his arms and sighed.

"The feeling is mutual."

Wesker walked for a little longer, passing by more laboratories and a security station. He soon made his way to the computer labs. It was a large dark room with several machines lined up in uniform on work benches. There were a handful of people working on their machines, all too engrossed in what they were doing to notice him. Wesker took this as a sign of good fortune; they would not notice him accessing classified information since they were too busy. Hell, he could probably fire his gun in this room and no one would bat an eyelid. Wesker went to the first computer he saw and entered his username and password. The background wallpaper was the Umbrella Corporation logo.

Typing commands into the keyboard, Wesker opened the researcher database. In there he found Dr William Birkin and clicked on his name. It opened a window that displayed a series of his on-going projects. One was labelled simply as "G". When he tried to access the file, a window came up with a beep, saying it was restricted. Wesker glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him. Satisfied he was still incognito, Wesker typed in an override and brought up the details of Birkin's experiments. He opened the list of active and previous researchers, assistants and technicians and compiled them onto a Word document before hitting the print key.

Wesker logged off, left his computer and went to the networked printer in the centre of the room. Taking the two pieces of paper that just printed he looked at them to make sure they were right before folding them and placing them in the breast pocket of his jacket. He then left the lab to head back to the station.

* * *

><p>In the basement of the police department Dr Deacon was in the morgue securing the cold chambers so that whatever burst from Gloria Steel's chest would not contaminate the physical evidence on the bodies. Barry had told him not to go down there as the area had been locked down but he felt that he had a duty to do. Deacon had finished securing the chambers when he heard the morgue door open.<p>

"Barry I know I'm not supposed to be down here on my own," he said, turning around. "But I told you I'd just be a…"

Deacon turned to see a creature a little larger than a man standing behind him. It was hideously deformed, with disproportionate limbs and a large bloody lump on its shoulder that appeared to be moving. It opened its mouth and what appeared to be a parasite emerged from it. It was spiny and wriggled in the air.

Dr Deacon's cry echoed throughout the corridor.

* * *

><p>In the kitchen on the Spencer Building's seventeenth floor, Jill hit the button to start the coffee machine. She and Chris had been there for a while and had been able to get a list of everyone who had been working on that floor at the time Gloria Steel committed suicide. Everyone had been sent home hours earlier by the police to recover from the traumatic events. Chris had sent the secretary who helped them get the list of employees home about an hour ago meaning it was just him and Jill on their own. Chris was sat in the conference room leaning against the table and looking at the broken window wondering how anyone could summon the will to throw themselves through glass.<p>

Meanwhile Jill was looking for a couple of mugs that did not look absolutely filthy. She decided to wash the two cleanest ones she could find and went to run the tap in the tiny sink. However she stopped when she noticed that was a fragment of ceramic sitting near the plughole. Interested, she put on a pair of gloves and picked up the ceramic fragment, looking at it. On one side she saw that there was a letter, a "G".

Curious, Jill looked in the cupboard and counted the cups. She had been told by the secretary before she left that all of the cups on the floor had been returned to the kitchen so she could help herself to some coffee. A sign on the cupboard door read 'bring you own mugs', leading Jill to believe that these belonged to the employees and not the company. She counted all of the names on the employee list and then all of the coffee cups. The number was the same but considering that Gloria Steel was not on the list that meant that there was in fact one missing coffee cup.

Glancing back at the ceramic piece Jill had an idea. She looked down at the bin. Jill bent down and tipped the contents onto the ground. She began sifting through the rubbish and started to sort through pieces of ceramic that she found buried under some plastic. They matched the shard she found in the sink. Jill got up and went into the main office area to look through people's desks. She found a tube of super glue in one along with some clear sticky tape and a makeup bag. She also took a business card that was part of a stack of many on the desk. Jill went back and began piecing the fragments of the cup together like a 3D puzzle. After a while Chris entered the kitchen and frowned at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Jill held up the cup that she had just finished gluing back together. 'Happy Birthday Auntie Gloria' was written before Chris' eyes. "Is that…?"

"I'm thinking that someone put something in her coffee to… dose her with the creature," said Jill, standing up and placing the cup on the counter surface. "That someone must have broken her cup and threw it in the trash to hide the evidence." She noted where she would hold it if she wanted to break it and grabbed the can of coca powder that was near the coffee machine. She sprinkled the powder over the cup and then opened the makeup kit. She took out a makeup brush and sprinkled the powder away, revealing a clear brown fingerprint in the area that Jill suspected it would have been. Peeling off some sticky tape she placed it on the fingerprint and peeled it off slowly, taking the print with it. She then put the tape on the blank side of the business card, pressing it flat and presented it to Chris. "How much do you want to bet that this is our guy?"

"We gotta take it back to the station and run prints," Chris said, forgetting about Wesker's previous orders to hang tight. "Well done, Jill."

"I have my moments," she replied, hopping over the mess and leaving the room, not bothering the clear it up.

As they went toward the elevator Chris took out his radio to apprise Wesker of the situation. Wesker, who had just got into his car and was driving toward the building, answered the call, putting on his headset.

"Wesker," he answered.

"Captain, Jill and I have found a fingerprint on a coffee cup that we believe will lead us to the man responsible for the thing in the basement," Chris told him. "We're heading to the station now to see if it matches with anything we have on file."

"Excellent work," Wesker said. "Did you also get the list of people?"

"We did," Chris replied. This was the only thing that Wesker cared about; if it was a researcher who was responsible for what happened there would be no way that their fingerprints would be in any police database.

"Good," Wesker said. "Good work. I'll meet you two at the station in about fifteen minutes."

As Chris and Jill went on their way Wesker did a U-Turn and began driving to the police station. He cut across several cars in the other lane, causing them to skid to a sudden halt and blast their horns at him. Ignoring them, Wesker pushed a button on his headset to contact Barry. When the call was answered he heard a lot of noise.

"Barry?" Wesker said, frowning.

"Captain," Barry cried into his radio. "We have a problem! I'm in an ambulance with Dr Deacon; he was attacked by the creature and needs urgent medical attention!"

Barry was sat near Deacon in the ambulance as paramedics were working on him. Deacon was crying in pain and holding his chest. A lump started to form, causing the paramedics to exclaim loudly at the sight of it.

"Dear God," Wesker muttered, hearing the paramedics. "Barry you need to get out of there right now!"

"I'm not leaving him," Barry cried. "We're coming up on Central now; we'll be there shortly. I can't let him go!"

"Barry, I…" the transmission was cut out and Wesker cursed to himself. He pushed the button on his headset again, contacting someone different. "This is Wesker; I need the countermeasure service right now."

Back in the ambulance, Deacon was groaning in great pain. The lump in his chest was growing exponentially. The paramedics said that they weren't sure if they'd reach the hospital in time. Barry leant close to Deacon and spoke directly at him.

"Listen to me; hang in there, damn it!" he said. "I'm not losing you! I will not lose you! You gotta fight it, doc!"

"Barry," Deacon said, holding up his hand. "There's nothing you could have done…"

"Don't speak like that," Barry shouted, taking his hand. "Everything's going to be okay. We're heading straight to the hospital now…" He looked over to the driver. "We have got to get there faster!"

"Barry," Deacon said again, squeezing his hand. "I know you're going to beat yourself up about this but don't. There are some things that we can't control and we just need to accept that."

Deacon then let out a loud shout as the lump suddenly subsided. Barry and the others looked at each other, confused. Deacon slumped in the gurney and stopped breathing. Barry looked desperately at the paramedics.

Suddenly Deacon's body ripped in two, splitting down between his neck and his shoulder down to his lower chest. Blood went flying everywhere as what lay below emerged outside. The ambulance driver looked back to see what was going on just as the parasite launched out of Deacon's chest at him.

The ambulance driver lost control and the vehicle started to skid. As Deacon's blood continued to spray, one of the paramedics climbed forward into the driving area to try and help.

The ambulance swerved on the road. Fortunately all of the cars near it had already got out of the way but it was drifting dangerously close to the median. A sudden turn made Barry slip on the bloody floor and fall on his back, facing the rear doors. The ambulance avoided several cars when it crossed onto the other side of the street with several motorists performing dangerous manoeuvres to avoid the oncoming ambulance. One driver was not too quick at getting out of the way and it clipped the side of the ambulance, nudging it toward the edge of the street. The ambulance ran straight into a parked car. The huge vehicle drove up the side of the car and went into the air, twisting as it travelled. It crashed onto its side and skidded along the ground, ramming straight into the side of a building, crushing the paramedics in the front, killing them instantly.

It was all over so quickly. Barry was lying on his side attempting to summon the strength to get up. The ambulance was totalled; the back doors had fallen off and there were medical supplies everywhere. Barry was able to look over and see the other paramedic lying next to Dr Deacon. Deacon's eyes were wide open and his face engraved with an expression of pure agony. Blood was still oozing from his fatal wound. Barry winced as he leant over to check the paramedic's pulse. He felt nothing. A sliding sound could be heard and Barry was able to look over and see the parasite sliding slowly toward him.

He tried to move but couldn't. He felt the parasite slide onto his foot and travel up his leg. Barry began breathing heavily, trying to get at his gun but not having any success in the position he was in. The parasite went over Barry's torso, his chest and up to his face. Snapping his mouth and eyes tightly shut and holding his breath, Barry felt the slimy parasite go over his face. It went over him and out through the hole in the back of the ambulance. Barry looked over and saw it slip onto the sidewalk and then onto the road. Up ahead was a drain. The parasite could fit into it. If it entered the sewers then it was game over.

Barry was able to reposition himself as the parasite slid away. He crawled from his position, crying in pain as his muscles ached. He was able to reach his gun, pulling it from his holster. He took aim at the parasite but his vision was too blurry. Time was short. Barry gritted his teeth and pulled himself forward, emerging half way out of the ambulance.

The parasite was near the drain now, less than ten feet.

Barry pulled himself out a little further, his legs leaving the ambulance.

Seven feet.

Barry took aim again but couldn't get a good shot.

Five feet.

Barry grabbed onto the side of the ambulance and pulled himself up.

Three feet.

He took aim.

Two feet.

He swayed to the side, losing his shot. He could not shoot it.

Just as the parasite was about to slip away forever, the sound of a roaring engine could be heard. Barry looked over and saw a black BMW fly around a corner. It sped down the road toward the accident scene. The car came to a screeching halt in front of Barry just as the parasite was about to reach the drain. The car's front left wheel drove over the parasite, crushing it with a squish and sending squirts of yellowish goo flying everywhere. The wheel remained on the remains of the parasite as the driver got out of his vehicle.

"Jesus Christ, Barry," said Wesker as he ran over toward him. "I told you to get out of there." Wesker put his arm around Barry and helped him over to his car. A crowd was gathering around the crash site. Wesker sat Barry in the passenger's seat and looked at his eyes. "I don't think you're concussed…"

"I didn't think it would happen that quickly," Barry said. "I thought we'd have more time." Wesker stopped him so that he could talk into his headset.

"This is Albert Wesker, Captain of S.T.A.R.S. We need an ambulance and police back up on the corner of Central and Euston."

"It killed Deacon," Barry said. "It tore him to pieces…" Wesker looked up and saw people looking into the ambulance.

"Hey!" he cried. "This is an active police scene! You are tampering with evidence just being here so I suggest you all get lost before I haul your butts into jail!"

The public began to walk away. The faint sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance.

"I need to go back," Barry said. Wesker knelt down to be at his level. "I need to go back. We've still got that thing in the basement…"

"I've taken appropriate precautions," Wesker said. "The basement is locked down and there is no way it is getting out of there."

"I need to get to the station!" Barry grabbed a hold of Wesker's jacket. "I need to get there right now!"

"Okay…" Wesker said slowly, calmly, taking Barry's hands away from him. "When backup arrives I'll take you there, okay?"

"Thank you," Barry said. Wesker stood up straight and brushed himself down. He shot a look of concern toward Barry and waited for backup to arrive.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>As soon as backup arrived at the scene, Wesker handed over to them and drove Barry back to the station. Arriving in the main hall, Wesker and Barry were greeted by Chris and Jill.<p>

"Jesus Christ, Barry," Chris said as they met. "Are you okay?"

"You should see the other guy," Barry commented grimly. "I'm gonna go sit down." Barry walked away, leaving Wesker, Chris and Jill alone.

"What the hell happened?" Jill asked. "Why didn't you take him to a doctor?"

"Watch your tone, Valentine," Wesker said. "And I tried but he insisted he come back here. He's acting strange I don't know what's wrong."

"Yeah; join the club," Chris said. "Is Dr Deacon okay?"

"He's dead," said Wesker. "He was implanted with a parasite that tore its way through his body while en route to the hospital."

"My God," Jill gasped. "That was a lot quicker than Gloria Steel."

"My guess is that Steel's suicide impeded the process somewhat," said Wesker. "There are most likely other underlying factors but enough of that; show me what you found."

"Here's the list of everyone on the floor at the time of the suicide," said Chris handing Wesker a notepad.

"And here's the print I pulled off Steel's coffee cup," Jill said, handing Wesker the business card. "The cup was smashed and someone attempted to hide it so I figured it'd be worth printing."

"It's good so see you using official evidence collecting tools," Wesker commented on the business card. "Still, good job you two. I think you deserve a break; go home. I'll begin the search upstairs. But check on Barry before you go. I'm a bit worried about him."

"Sure," said Chris. Wesker nodded and excused himself, leaving them alone. Chris looked to Jill. "Barry must have been acting really strange if Wesker was concerned about him. Where do you think he went?"

Alone in the basement, Barry was limping through the corridor with his Colt .44 in hand. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely. It was hot and dark.

"I'm here," he said softly. "I'm here… Where are you, huh?" Barry looked around in the darkness. "Where are you?" he shouted loudly, his voice echoing down the corridor.

Upstairs Chris and Jill stepped into the detective office and asked the first officer they saw about Barry.

"Yeah," said the detective, "I saw him. He just went by heading for the basement. I thought that area was restricted anyway?"

Chris and Jill exchanged glances before breaking into a run. They headed for the basement.

"Come on!" Barry shouted. "Show yourself!" He turned around, lowering his weapon and spinning as he spoke. "You've already killed two people, five if you count the paramedics. Why don't you take me on, huh? Are you scared? Are you afraid of little old me? Does feeble Barry Burton, a man who can't protect his own colleagues, frighten you? Show yourself!"

Barry kicked open a metal door and stepped into the furnace room.

Chris and Jill were running down the corridor that would give them access to the basement stairs. When they reached the stairs they came across two large men dressed in police uniform blocking their way. Neither Chris nor Jill recognised them. They were tall, muscular and looked tough.

"Sorry," said one of them. "This area is restricted."

"What do you mean?" Chris said. "Barry went through here; let us pass."

"I don't know about that but I'm afraid we can't do that," was his response. "We are under orders to keep this area secure."

"In case you haven't noticed," Jill held up her badge, "we're S.T.A.R.S. so we outrank you."

"We're not moving."

"Who the hell are you two anyway?" Jill said. "I've never seen you before in my life."

In the furnace room, Barry squinted in the darkness. A flickering orange light came from the furnace up ahead. He went over toward it without noticing the large monster lying in the shadows behind. The roar of the furnace masked the noise of the creature that was the size of three people as it approached. Barry opened the furnace guard, which flooded the room with light and heat. Barry turned as he heard the monster let out a cry as the powerful heat wave hit it. Barry began firing at it.

Upstairs, Chris and Jill heard the shots and took action. Jill kicked one of the people holding them back in the groin while Chris took the hand of the other, pulling him down and smacking him in the back of the head, incapacitating him. While the other guard arched over in pain, Jill kicked him in the head, knocking him out. She grabbed hold of him before he fell down the stairs and threw him to the side as she and Chris ran down, drawing their weapons.

The creature lunged toward Barry, pinning him against the wall near the open furnace. Barry struggled to move while the creature put its face up against his. Parasites were forming in its mouth. Thinking fast, Barry was able to take one of the creature's limbs and push it against the hot furnace metal. It let out a cry, loosening its grip over him. Barry was able to wriggled his gun arm free and shot the creature in the side of its head. The beast fell to the ground in one big lump but the parasites were still coming.

Chris and Jill entered the furnace room and ran over to Barry.

"Good God," Chris cried. "Is that…?"

"We need to burn it," Barry shouted. "Quick; before the others come out!"

Chris, Jill and Barry were able to push the monster into the furnace and close the guard. The monster's parasites could be heard screeching in the flames as they burned to death. The smell was quite something so they left the furnace room to reopen the ventilation systems. Without another word, Chris and Jill helped Barry upstairs and out of the basement. At the top of the stairs Barry looked down at the unconscious officers.

"Don't ask," said Jill as she and Chris led him away to the infirmary.

* * *

><p><strong>THE HIVE<strong>

* * *

><p>Back in the Hive's underground computer labs, Wesker put the fingerprint into the scanner and scanned it into his terminal. He then ran a programme that would compare the fingerprint to those of the researchers that were on file. Wesker asked the computer to compare the prints to the people on the list he had made earlier. After five minutes a match was found to a man named Daniel Best. Wesker then scanned through the names on Jill's list to see if Best's name came up.<p>

It did.

Wesker picked up the telephone and dialled Chief Irons' number.

"Hello?"

"I've got our guy," said Wesker. "Daniel Best. Write down this address so that you can send uniforms down to pick him up." Wesker read to Irons Best's address and he wrote it down on a notepad.

"Good work, Wesker."

"Well it was a team effort," Wesker said. "Redfield and Valentine came through for me."

"As did Burton," Irons said. "He went down and killed that monster in the basement all by himself, the crazy son of a bitch."

"Really?" Wesker asked, surprised.

"Really," Irons repeated. "So I called off the countermeasure service that you summoned. Redfield and Valentine took out two of their agents who were standing guard at the basement. You'd better watch them."

"I will," said Wesker.

"It's not over yet, Albert," Irons said. "We may have the man but we need to find out why. Come to the station and we'll question him together."

"Yes sir," said Wesker. "I'm on my way."

Wesker hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes tiredly. It had been a long day.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>Outside the station, Chris, Jill and Barry were walking in the sunset breeze. The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a gentle orange light across the sky. They were walking on a small green patch of grass just to the left of the police station's main entrance. They were talking about Barry's recent behaviour.<p>

"So what's been going on with you?" Chris asked. "You've been snappy, withdrawn and a lot more reckless than you usually are. I mean come on man; you went down into the basement after that thing alone. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking," Barry said. "Not really. I just knew that I had to get this thing."

"Seriously, Barry," said Jill, "we were all worried about you. Even Wesker said something and Wesker's not human. So tell us; what's been going on?" Barry sighed at her question and stopped. Chris and Jill turned to face him.

"Ever since Kevin died I've felt a little… useless."

"Oh Barry," Jill started but Chris put his hand on her shoulder, signalling her to let him continue.

"I tried to help him but he still died in my arms," Barry went on. "Seeing his funeral today just brought back loads more feelings of inadequacy and anger. Nothing was good enough there and nothing was good enough when I tried helping him. I used the parasite as a way to channel my anger."

"That was the monster you needed to slay to make up for losing Kevin?" Jill asked.

"I suppose," Barry sighed.

"Look; what happened to Kevin was not your fault. I know no matter what I say you'll probably still feel the same but there is absolutely nothing you could have done. You are no more responsible for his death than I am, or Chris is."

"That's not true," Barry said. "One of the last times I saw him I gave him a little chat about respect and going the extra mile and being a hero and all that. It was just to try and get him to respect us and maybe get off our backs but I think I spurred him on and it ended up getting him killed. I couldn't do anything about it. I'll get over it; I know I will. I think it just takes a little time."

"Well talking to us is a start," Chris said, patting him on the back. "We're your friends; you can always to talk to us."

"Yeah," Jill smiled. "Don't keep things from me or else I'll be forced to unlock your secrets."

Barry laughed at her sarcasm and smiled.

"Okay," he said. "I won't keep things from you anymore. I promise."

"Good," Jill said with a happy smile. "We can go back to being a united team again." She held her hand out. Chris took it and then so did Barry. They stood there for a moment before taking them away.

"Right then," Chris clapped his hands. "Wesker told us that we can go home but I think I'll take you to the emergency room, Barry. No discussion."

"I guess that's probably for the best," Barry sighed.

"I'll let you boys go off and have your romantic man-date," Jill grinned. "I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

Chris and Barry nodded and turned to start walking. Jill watched them for a moment before turning the other way toward her car. As she walked past the main entrance to the station she looked over and saw the two officers than she and Chris had beaten up walking out of the entrance with someone else. His long hair and handsome face were clearly recognisable; it was Carlos, the soldier who had restrained her in the street during the Licker chase a few weeks ago. He was wearing civilian clothing this time, not his military getup. Jill supposed that the police officers who stopped her and Chris from entering the basement were undercover soldiers sent in to capture and kill the parasite. Stopping in front of them, Jill smiled sarcastically at Carlos, making him and the other two stop.

"Well, well," Carlos said with a grin. "If it isn't my Valentine? How are you doing?"

"Pretty good as a matter of fact," Jill folded her arms. "Yeah, we got a beastie of our own today. We killed it without your help."

"Congratulations," said Carlos, stepping past the other two. "You seem pretty pleased with yourself, as you should be. It's quite a task; handling these creatures."

"Well we handled it pretty well," said Jill. "So I think we could have handled the Licker without your interference."

"You think you've proven yourself just because you've taken down one B.O.W.?"

"We weren't trying to prove ourselves to anyone," Jill lowered her arms, taking a few steps over toward him. "And what the hell is a B.O.W.?"

"They're what we fight every day," Carlos told her, his voice becoming darker. "While you and your friends write out speeding tickets and make people pay parking fines we battle horrors that you could not even possibly imagine."

"You know you speak pretty freely for someone who works for a clandestine organisation," Jill said. Carlos looked at his two men.

"Go on I'll catch you up." They walked away, giving Jill dirty looks as they passed. She let them go, knowing that she would not be able to track them even if she tried. She instead continued to look at Carlos, not breaking eye contact. "You've been researching me?"

"I tried," Jill said. "But your organisation's logo doesn't appear to be in any database. Then again I doubt it would if your day job is fighting monsters from hell. I'd imagine that'd be the kind of thing the government would try to keep quiet."

"You're a clever woman," said Carlos. "Attractive, too."

"I also have a good memory," Jill added. "When we met you told me that you owed me one."

"Ah I see where this is going," said Carlos, brushing the hair out of his face. "Where would you like to go?"

"For what?" Jill frowned.

"For the date you're about to ask me on."

"Oh please!" Jill laughed. "Out of all of the things I could ask you, you honestly think that would be it?"

"Why not?"

"Well for starters; I don't like you," said Jill. "Plus I don't trust you."

"That's why we date, no? To get to know each other."

"No," Jill said firmly. "I want something else from you."

"What is it?" Carlos shrugged.

"Tell me what organisation you work for." Carlos smiled at the request. He took Jill's hand and bent at the knee, kissing it. He then stood up and let go.

"I'm not the kind of guy who gives it all up on the first date," Carlos said.

"I told you; no date!"

"Then you get no information," said Carlos with a cheeky grin. He walked around Jill and headed for the main gate out of the police department grounds. He looked back at her and smiled. "Next time we meet, call in that favour, eh?"

Carlos left Jill alone in the grounds. She put her hands on her hips, shook her head and started to laugh.

* * *

><p>Forest entered the locker room just as Rebecca had finished getting changed. She was chatting with Richard while Kenneth, Edward and Brad were also in there getting changed. She was leaving with Richard when Forest stopped her, blocking the door.<p>

"Have a good day, Chambers?" Forest asked.

"Yeah," Rebecca shrugged. "It was quite interesting." She shared a look with Richard before blushing ever so slightly. She looked back to Forest. "Could you step aside, please?"

"Not until you answer me this one question;" said Forest. "When would you like to go out with me?"

"Oh," Rebecca said suddenly, completely taken aback by the suddenness of the question. "I, er… I don't think you're my type."

"That wasn't the question," Forest said. "When would you like to go out with me?"

"Oh… er… never?"

"Never?" Forest repeated, losing his cool tone. "Never?"

"Yeah," Rebecca nodded. "Never."

"Why not?"

"You said I only had to answer one question, so… goodbye!"

"Hang on," Forest said. "People don't usually say no to me. Why not?"

"Well you're not really my type," Rebecca said. "There's quite an age gap between us and I don't think you have the same idea of romance as I do."

"Oh what and he does?" Forest gestured vaguely at Richard.

"Yeah," Rebecca nodded. "He's sweet and gentlemanly and you're… not."

Kenneth and Edward laughed, sending jeering whistles directed at Forest.

"What does he have then that I don't?" Forest asked.

"Well if you must know we had a good chat today and he even caught me when I fell off something," said Rebecca. "That's pretty good in my books."

"He caught you when you fell?" Forest said. "I'm surprised he was able to carry you."

"What are you saying?" Rebecca frowned at him.

"Oh I didn't mean it like that!" Forest said suddenly. "I'm just saying you'd be too heavy for him!" As soon a Forest realised how what he had said sounded he closed his eyes as Kenneth and Edward began jeering again. Rebecca left the room along with Richard as the taunts continued. Brad went to leave before looking back at Forest.

"And you said it was hard to imagine me with a woman," he commented, earning the loudest laughs and jeers yet from Kenneth and Edward, praising Brad on Forest's put down.

In the corridor, Rebecca and Richard walked a little bit together before she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry if I said anything embarrassing in there."

"You said I was romantic," Richard shrugged. "Why would that be embarrassing?" Rebecca blushed again as the two went on their way.

* * *

><p>In the interrogation room Daniel Best was sat handcuffed to his chair with an officer in the room watching him. The lights were low and the room was quite dark. Standing in the viewing room next door was Wesker and Irons.<p>

"He said he would only talk to you," Irons told Wesker.

"Why?" Wesker asked.

"Dunno," Irons shrugged. "The only thing he said was that he would only talk to Captain Albert Wesker of S.T.A.R.S."

Wesker nodded, leaving the room and stepping into the other side. He dismissed the officer watching and sat down behind the table, facing Dan. He put his hands together and sighed.

"What are you doing, Daniel?" Wesker shrugged. "You had a real good future ahead of you and you just threw it all away."

"You think you know me?" Dan replied with a snicker.

"I do know you," said Wesker. "I know a lot more than you think I do. In fact I am a good friend of Dr Birkin's and I know what type of research he conducts."

"You and Birkin have history," Dan grinned. "Everyone knows that. Everyone knows what you did. But no one cares. Despite your disloyalty no one cares. Except for one person. I met the one person who does care."

"I see," Wesker nodded. "And who is that person?"

"I don't have a future ahead of me," Dan responded. "None of us do. We're all staring into an abyss; looking at our own destruction. Our lives are about to end in a sea of flames and it is all our fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"He is back," Dan said. "He knows what you did. But he's not like the rest; he cares. He cares about what you've done; about what Umbrella has done, about what all of you have done!"

"What are you talking about?" Wesker said again, this time with more force.

"I'm talking about a message," Dan said. "A message to you; Captain Albert Wesker, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. The man with the two faces. Do they know what you've done, your team mates? Would they follow your orders so blindly if they knew that you were responsible for some of the monstrosities they've been forced to deal with? Would they be so loyal to you if they knew what you're capable of?"

"You obviously know what I am capable of," said Wesker, getting to his feet. "So I'm going to make this simple; start speaking sense or I'll drag you to Birkin to make you answer for your betrayal."

"It's funny," Dan giggled. "You using that word; betrayal. I suppose that's the hot word for you. That's the word he uses when he talks about you, too."

"Who are you talking about?"

Dan stopped talking, his smile fading. He suddenly started to retch. He leant over the table as if he were about to vomit. He strained the chains in his handcuffs as he began to heave. Wesker stood back, drawing his weapon just in case another parasite burst from his chest. It didn't.

Instead Dan opened his mouth and regurgitated something that was large and slimy. It was several inches long and had a bluish centre that appeared to glow. Wesker knew what it was immediately and looked through the mirror at where Irons would be. Irons did not know what it was by was disturbed by Wesker's reaction. He looked afraid.

"Doctor Marcus," Dan wheezed, "sends his regards."

Wesker looked down at the Leech.

A cold shiver went down his spine.

* * *

><p><em><strong>For Ross – Happy Birthday<strong>_


	3. Night Watch

Captain Albert Wesker was stood in the interrogation room, his chair lying on the ground; kicked back with great force due to the sight before his eyes. Opposite him was Daniel Best, the suspect of the recent case that the S.T.A.R.S. team had closed. His eyes were glazed over in the unmoving stare of a man recently dead. His mouth hung open in a bloody, dry smile. He had delivered a message to Wesker just before he died, a message that broke the man's usually cool, controlled exterior allowing emotions he rarely expressed to be displayed on his face, emotions of shock, confusion and fear. Daniel Best died a happy man, knowing that he had accomplished his mission and that he had enjoyed the immense satisfaction of rumbling the usually unfeeling Albert Wesker.

The Leech that Daniel Best had regurgitated was slowly writhing on the table, bloody and slimy. Its form was similar to that of a teardrop as it got its bearings, becoming used to its new environment. Despite the manner in which it came into the world the creature appeared to be quite passive. It moved across the table with a custom similar to that of a new-born puppy, eager to explore the world. Wesker, however, had other plans. With the look of fear and confusion never leaving him he tipped over the table, causing the Leech to fall to the floor. Dazed and confused, the creature wriggled on the cold ground as Wesker stepped close to it and with one quick movement, stomped his foot onto it with a force that splattered slime all around the room with a loud, wet squelch. He breathed heavily, like a man who had just received the shock of a lifetime.

Wesker went for the door and stepped out into the hallway, not caring to shut it behind him. He stormed through the empty corridors of the police station, moving with great speed and purpose. Wesker exited the police station seemingly indifferent to the cold chill that had fallen over the night. He pushed past the cold and got into his car that was parked near the entrance to the station. He reversed out of his space with great speed and little care before driving off the grounds with immense haste. As he rocketed down the streets of Raccoon City, Wesker dialled a number on his car phone.

"We need to talk immediately."

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON PARK<strong>

* * *

><p>Wesker stood alone underneath one of the lampposts in the park. It was approaching midnight and the only people he spotted in the distance were people walking home or the homeless who were looking for a place to spend the night. The air was getting cooler meaning they could not stay out on the park benches any longer. Wesker sighed anxiously, his breath turning into steam before his very eyes drifting up into the sky cloudless black sky as if it would escape from the cold up there. He watched his breath in front of his face and for a brief moment wished that he could drift away with as much ease. It was the first time in his life he had ever felt this way, the first time he felt that running away was an option.<p>

Retreat had always been something that other people did as far as Wesker was concerned. He would always be the one to stand strong and fight the hard battle. This was because he seldom lost. In all his years he had always been able to facilitate his success either by using his own skill or by relying on a handful of well-placed contacts. This was why his sudden impulse to run disturbed him so greatly. It was something he simply never did. No matter the situation he always stood his ground. Contemplating the strength of his fear, Wesker pondered what was coming next. He did not want to think. He closed his eyes and focused on the darkness, on the silence. In the silence he heard something in his mind, a bang. Six bangs sounding off rapidly. They were the echo of gunshots that happened many years ago. The six blasts echoed through time, coming from memories repressed long ago and landing on the doorstep of his conscious mind. Six shots, echoing from his busy mind and out into the quiet world around him.

"Albert," a voice called out from the darkness behind him. Wesker turned to see William Birkin stepping into the cone of light underneath the lamppost. Wesker felt a fleeting warm moment of security as he saw Birkin. The chill was briefly irrelevant as Birkin stepped forward. He was the one person who knew the most about him. They had worked together for over twenty years and if there was anyone who Wesker could share something with, it was Birkin. "I can't stay long. You know how nervous Annette gets when I'm out too long and not in the lab." He suddenly realised how awful Wesker looked and his expression turned to one of concern. "My God, Albert. What on earth is the matter? You look awful."

"James Marcus is alive," Wesker said, causing the blood to immediately drain from Birkin's face.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY SUBWAY<strong>

* * *

><p>It was the last train of the evening and driver Jim Chapman was eager to get his shift over with so he could head to the bar to unwind. His finger tapped the control console in an agitated manner, the actions of a man with better things to do with his time than drive trains. In actual fact Jim did not have anything better to do than drive trains. As soon as his shift ended he would head over to J's Bar like he usually did, order a bottle of beer and only drink half of it before he headed off home. Jim's impatience stemmed from the stack of newspapers that sat next to his chair. Driving trains was easy work and so to pass the time he would fill out the crossword puzzle. Over the four years he had been driving he had become quite the master of crosswords and he could get through several papers worth in one shift. His supervisor would reprimand him time after time when he discovered Jim filling out the crossword instead of focusing on the job at hand. Jim never listened to him though: his supervisor was an idiot.<p>

Jim pulled the train into the penultimate stop for his shift and saw only one person standing on the platform, bringing the number of people who were occupying the train to a grand total of eight, four of which were sat in the front carriage. The new passenger stepped onto the train and after a few moments Jim proceeded ahead. The end was in sight.

The man who had just boarded the train stood by the doors and looked at his fellow passengers. One person was asleep, another was writing something down in a small journal. The final two people were quietly talking to each other. The person writing in the journal happened to glance up and narrowed his gaze when he saw the new passenger. He was a young man wearing a long white robe. His hair was long and his feet were bare. The man moved forward to stand in the middle of the carriage. He moved purposefully without holding on to the hand rails for support in the bumpy carriage. He stopped in the middle of everyone, immune to the train's rickety movements.

"Ladies and gentleman may I have your attention?" he spoke up, waking the man who was dozing and causing the two people who were chatting to look over to him. Everyone shared a look of curiosity; the barefoot robed man did not belong on the train. "I apologise for disturbing your journey; I promise you that I will only take a moment of your time."

His voice was deep with unusual maturity. The man appeared to be no more than twenty-five years old and yet he sounded as though he was living in the 1940s. He was polite and very eloquent. The other passengers, while confused as to the presence of this strange man remained silent and listened to him. The man who was writing began to note down what he was saying. He had an intriguing manner about him.

"I am sorry to say that today I will be disrupting your journey. I sincerely wish that things could be different but sadly this is how things must be. You see ten years ago a great injustice was committed. There was a brilliant man, a scientist whose work would, if perfected, change the world. However this man worked with people who were equally as brilliant but who were morally bankrupt. They were jealous of him, of his creations, of his legacy. And so they betrayed him; murdered him, destroyed him. They stole his work, claiming it as their own and then discarded him and his legacy with the ease of disposing an insignificant piece of tissue. I am telling you this not to justify my imminent actions but to put things into perspective. You will help me right this injustice by sending a message to the people responsible. However in order to this I must destroy this train, which is a regrettable but necessary course of action."

The other passengers suddenly became tense as they saw the man begin to undo his robe. A few people began voicing protests which he ignored. Someone pushed the emergency button to try and stop the train while he let the rope holding his robe together fall to the ground. He held onto each side of the robe and said one last thing.

"Your lives will help change the world, just like mine will."

The man opened his robe and a torrent of Leeches emerged seemingly from nowhere, spreading around the carriage with great speed and purpose. People began screaming and ran about the carriage as the Leeches started crawling over them. The man who had been asleep tried to pry open one of the doors while the train was still moving but the Leeches made their way up his body and he fell to the ground. The two people who had been having a conversation were split up by the creatures. One of them fell to the floor and tried to crawl backward away from them but they quickly swarmed over her body. She convulsed and screamed while her friend and the man who had been writing began banging on the glass of the door to the driver's compartment. Jim Chapman looked around at the scene of horror as the people were being overcome by what looked like a moving black sheet. The man who had been writing pressed his notepad against the glass, the words "help us" written on the paper. Leeches swarmed over him and the glass causing Jim to cry out in shock, hitting the emergency brake button.

The train came to a halt in the subway tunnel and the man opened one of the doors and stepped out of the train. One of his Leeches followed him before they shut again and went underneath the train to the electrical wires. With a loud spark the power went out and the interior of the train was plunged into darkness. He walked away casually as he tied his robe back up, leaving the Leeches in the first carriage.

_Quarantine Alpha_

* * *

><p>"I don't understand. What do you mean 'James Marcus is alive?' He can't be. I was there; <em>we<em> were there when he died." Birkin's tone was odd. Half of him knew that what he had been told could not possibly be true but the other half of him knew that it must be because Wesker never joked and his expression was clearly that of a fearful and sincere man. Birkin took a moment, stepped back and sighed, running his hand over his head. Despite the cold air of Raccoon Park his forehead was brim with sweat, a chilled and nervous sweat of a man with deep troubles. "Dear God..." he finally managed. His gaze was aimed downward, not possessing the energy to lift his head and look at Wesker. He was spending all of his energy trying to work out the situation. "I don't understand."

"Me neither," Wesker shuffled slightly on the spot, his arms folded and his eyes slightly distracted. "Dead men don't rise from the grave, not even in Raccoon City."

"What happened?" Birkin asked, finally lifting his head. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"A woman jumped to her death from the Spencer Building. She was taken to the morgue so the mortician could take a quick look at her. He discovered a protuberance on her chest. A parasite emerged from the inflammation and escaped into the station's ventilation system where it slowly started getting bigger."

"That sounds like…"

"It was one of your G-Larvae specimens, yes," Wesker answered Birkin's question before he could ask it. "Or at least it was something similar."

"I trust there's a good reason you waited until this long to tell me that one of my lab creatures was running around in your station?" Birkin asked, his tone harsh.

"I wanted to get all the facts before I worried you with the details."

"Is that right?" Birkin's tone was sceptical and he made no attempt to mask this. "So you weren't investigating to see whether or not I was responsible for releasing the larvae into the population?"

"William, I've known you long enough to know that you never would have done some something so unbelievably reckless."

"Sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all," Birkin muttered angrily. "Who stole my work then? Recklessness is Jaeger's forté."

"You pay him a compliment to suggest that he is interested in anything other than his own work," Wesker commented in a light-hearted manner. "No, it was one of your lower level research assistants. Does the name Daniel Best ring any bells?"

"I'm not too familiar with him."

"I personally did the research and discovered that he was able to procure a specimen sample and infected the first casualty with it some hours later. I'm not sure how he stole it precisely; that's something you need to look at on your end. I suspect…"

Wesker paused for a moment. The sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance. Several police cars emerged from around a corner and passed the park before fading off into the night again, travelling at great speed. Both Wesker and Birkin looked at the cars as they sped past, their gaze meeting each other's once again when they had vanished.

"Is it still out there?"

"No," Wesker shook his head. "We were able to destroy the main specimen and it's… offspring. It was a close call but we managed to contain the situation effectively."

"What happened with Daniel Best? I want to talk to him."

"Unless he rises from the dead like Dr Marcus that won't be possible," Wesker said to a bemused look from Birkin. He sighed, taking a moment to construct his next sentence with as much precision as possible. "Do you remember the work Marcus focused on? The work with the Leeches?"

"Of course I do, the man was obsessed with those vile things."

"I was questioning Best when one of those Leeches just emerged from his oesophagus. It crawled out from inside him and must have caused massive internal bleeding. He had enough time to say 'Doctor Marcus sends his regards' before he died."

Birkin said nothing more. He put his hand to his head once again and began pacing. Wesker watched him as he shuffled nervously.

"Do you think it's him?" he stopped. "I mean genuinely: do you think it's the real Marcus?"

"James Marcus had no real friends, no family and not even any colleagues who even remotely liked him at any point in his life with the exception of you and I. There's no way this is down to the action of a devoted person acting on his behalf. I'm certain of it."

"Well that's all well and good but it doesn't make sense. How can it be him?" Birkin asked, raising his voice. "Dead men don't start making threats ten years after they've received half a dozen bullets to the chest."

"I think the question we should be focusing on is not how he has reappeared in our lives but why he has reappeared. What does he want and more importantly; what are we going to do about it?"

"Well I think it's pretty clear what he wants," Birkin paused. "Revenge. We killed him, obviously not very well as the case may be and then we stole his work. If that happened to you and you were in a position to get revenge tell me you wouldn't take it."

"I don't like my feelings get in the way of the task at hand."

"Occasionally, Albert, I do wonder if you have any feelings at all. What if there was no task at hand, no higher purpose or significance you were required to play up to. Would you just let things lie when you've had your entire life and work stolen?" Birkin sharply gasped. "What if he tries to come after me? After my work?"

"After your family?" Wesker added.

"Good Lord, you're right, I didn't think about that," Birkin said. "I've got to get them out of here!"

"I wouldn't make any rash decisions," Wesker held his hands up. "Annette is a sharp woman who will ask questions when you begin insisting that she take Sherry get out of the city for a while. It won't be that simple, it never is. If we are to handle this situation we need to keep everything controlled and to do that you need to keep your work and family close, just leave things as they are."

"I can't just leave them or my work unprotected!"

"I doubt Marcus is after your work," Wesker said. "I mean what could he do with it? The whole world thinks he's dead. Your family, however, could potentially be another story. I'll post two of my agents on Sherry to look out for her from a distance, just to be safe. Annette is in the Hive most of the time anyway so she'll be safe there."

"Why don't we get a couple of Nicholai's goons to look out for her? They do have military experience."

"Nicholai's people are little more than hired guns from war torn parts of the world. My team are better trained, better prepared and better suited for simple babysitting work, trust me."

"Fine. What about my work?"

"Back it all up on a disc or something," Wesker sighed tediously. "But I really don't think he will be interested in starting up where he left off. He has no means to do so. Besides the Hive has security the F.B.I. would admire so any risk to your work is low."

"I had a specimen stolen from my lab, Albert! Don't tell me that security is fine."

"We're talking about outside interference here. Your situation is different; you had an internal breach."

"By a man who appears to have been working for Marcus."

There was a sudden silence. Birkin nervously ran his hands through his hair.

"Dear God we are well and truly screwed."

"Don't be dramatic; I'll look into this personally. I'll try and keep it under my hat while I do so, so in case there are other elements within the police department or the Hive I won't arouse their suspicion. In the meantime be careful choosing who to trust."

"The same should go to you," Birkin said. "Don't trust Irons. That man is on the precipice of a psychotic break, I swear to God."

Wesker's pager began to beep and he lifted it up so he could look at the screen. He was being called to a subway station a few blocks away. There was an emergency that required his presence.

"I have to go," Wesker said. "Research James Marcus on your end; try and find out if anyone continued his research, specifically anyone who he may have had a friendship with that we don't know about. I'm not sure if I can buy into the theory that he has risen from the dead, not yet anyway. Also look out for how Daniel Best was able to breach security and look about tightening measures. Page me if you need me."

Wesker turned and vanished into the night, leaving Birkin alone under the lamp. He felt exposed; a feeling he was not used to and hoped would go away soon. He sighed and left, stepping into the darkness leaving nothing more than his breath floating up to the sky.

* * *

><p>Wesker parked his car next to the main entrance of the subway station. Two police cars were positioned by the entrance. Police tape wrapped around the wing mirrors connected the cars together and to part of the wall of the subway station forming a perimeter around the entrance. Wesker stepped out of his vehicle and made his way for the entrance. As he stepped under the tape he noticed that the police cars were the same ones that had passed him and Birkin earlier when they were talking in the park.<p>

He descended down the steps toward the subway platform, noticing the air as it suddenly became dense, warm and stale. An unusual smell lingered although he could not tell what it was, not that he had any great desire to do so. The subway was being used less and less nowadays so who knew how often the stations were cleaned? As Wesker made his way through the corridor of the station he noticed that the walls were grimy, covered in stains, graffiti and haphazardly placed advertisements that seemed several months out of date, even the ones by the Umbrella Corporation. Obviously the place had not felt the bristles of a cleaner's brush for quite some time.

Wesker kicked a piece of litter away from him as he made his way through the empty concourse before the stairs that led to the platforms. The entire place was deserted. Aside from the very distant sound of police radios, there was an almost deafening eerie silence. Wesker's footsteps echoed around the empty space, shouting in his ears that he was alone.

That was when he heard the six shots in his head again, the six gunshots fired by marksmen positioned deep in his unconscious, aiming at him and firing whenever he was alone. Wesker tried to focus on something else, the sounds of his footsteps. His feet clapped against the final set of stairs leading down to the platform, drowning out the memories leaking back into his mind. At the foot of the stairs Wesker came across two police officers standing close to the tracks, peering into the tunnel. To the right there was a small group of people sat on the benches being spoken to by two other officers. Everyone looked over as they saw Wesker coming and man in charge made his way over to see him.

"Captain," Raymond Douglas greeted.

"Officer Douglas," Wesker replied, taking off his glasses and glancing around the deserted station. "What have we got here?"

"Something's happened on a train," Douglas explained. "Something that's… hard to explain."

"Of course it is," Wesker muttered, under his breath. Douglas narrowed his eyes at him, unsure of how to respond appropriately. Wesker gestured with his hand, telling him to "go on."

"The last train of the evening came to a grinding halt in the middle of the tunnel there," he gestured to where the other officer was looking. "We switched off the power to the tracks so we could go take a look and found the train sitting there. The lights were off and there was no sign of life on board."

"Go on," Wesker folded his arms.

"When we got closer we saw that the driver was tapping against the glass. Inside the first carriage there were these… I dunno how to describe them. There were hundreds of them slithering up the walls and over the windows. They had apparently killed everyone inside. Anyway we got the driver out and the people in the rear cars and took them to the platform but looking back I don't know what those things inside the carriage were."

Wesker felt himself go weak as he heard Douglas' story. Everything he had just said sounded disturbingly familiar. Without listening to any more he took the man's flashlight from his belt and jumped onto the tracks, running down into the darkness. The officer called out after him but Wesker carried on, running as fast as he could into the darkness. It did not take long of him running away from his echoing footsteps to find the train reflecting against the light of his flashlight. He ran to the side of it and pointed the beam up to the first carriage.

He saw nothing. The windows were slightly stained, nothing out of the ordinary for Raccoon City's subway cars, but he did not see anything crawling along the windows. Stepping up onto the train Wesker peered closely through the window. He saw four bodies lying on the ground, dead. Suddenly something splatted against the window causing Wesker to fall down in shock, it was a Leech. The flashlight slipped from Wesker's fingers, rolling along the tracks slightly. Things were really starting to get out of hand.

When Wesker reappeared on the platform he had already formulated the plan to handle the situation.

"Douglas," he said as the officer ran over to him. "What have you done? Have you contacted the coroner?"

"I've put in a request but with the recent goings on down at the station we're waiting for someone to come in from quite a while away."

"I want you to get everyone out of here right now," he said. "Take the witnesses back to the station to get statements and I'll call in my team to investigate." He took Douglas aside for a moment, speaking to him very softly and deliberately. "This is a highly irregular situation that we need to keep under quiet for the time being, do you understand? I want you to make sure that none of your officers start talking to anyone else about what they've seen here today and the same must be said about the civilians. For reasons that I will make clear in time I need you to make sure this goes under the radar, do you understand me?"

Wesker had the face of a man who should not be argued with and so Douglas simply nodded in compliance. He turned around and immediately ordered everyone to leave. The police officers herded the witnesses out of the station leaving Wesker alone. He glanced back down the tunnel before he ran upstairs, through the concourse and emerged on the street. The police tape was still draped over the entrance and he stepped under it, heading for his car. He opened the door and dialled a number into his car phone.

"It's me," he said. "I need a clean-up team down at New Lock Square Station on the double. A subway car needs to be torched in a manner that will destroy what we need to be destroyed and also appear accidental."

Wesker hung up the phone after a brief conversation and went back into the station. He hurried to the station offices, which were closed for the evening. He picked the lock on one of the doors and went to the nearest computer terminal. He was able to log into the machine with surprising ease; he was not asked once to enter a password. Despairing slightly at the lack of security Wesker pressed on and accessed the security camera footage for the previous station at the time the train had pulled through it. He noticed one person step onto the train; a tall young man in a white robe. This man was not in the group of passengers from other parts of the train and Wesker did not recognise him from the bodies inside the Leech carriage. He stopped the video as the man turned around clearly showing his face. He printed the screen and the image of his prime suspect emerged from the nearby printer. With the evidence in hand Wesker promptly deleted the security footage and shut the computers down, stepping outside to wait for Nicholai and his men.

He did not have to wait long and within five minutes a large van sped around a corner and came to a screeching halt right beside Wesker. The rear doors opened and several men armed with heavy duty weapons and attired in state of the art paramilitary grabs jumped out and stood to attention before Wesker. On their backs was the logo that Jill had been trying to identify for the past few weeks, right in plain sight in front of Wesker. A young man stepped out of the passenger's side of the van and stood next to Wesker, Carlos Oliveira.

"Somebody order a Countermeasure Service?"

"You?" Wesker said irritably. "Where the hell is Nicholai?"

"My boss is very busy," Carlos said. "He's not like you, Captain; he can't make it to every little scene no matter how hard he tries to." Wesker sighed angrily. He needed Nicholai's attention on this matter. He did not trust Carlos: the man was young and inexperienced. He feared he would not take things as seriously as they deserved to be and this situation was indeed very serious, personally and professionally. He needed to ensure things would not spiral out of control and at the moment that was very close to happening. He had no choice but to trust the man.

"I'm going to give you orders and you need to follow them to the letter, do you understand? If I say jump I don't want you to ask 'how high', I just want you to do it. Time and discretion is critical. Am I making myself clear?"

"Sure," Carlos nodded. "Although if time is a factor then don't you think we should just get on with it? What are the details?"

"There's a train down there in the middle of the tracks. In the first carriage are four dead bodies and a hell of a lot of B.. We need to torch the train but make it look like an electrical fire so there is not a thorough investigation. Is that possible?"

"We can do that," Carlos said. "We've got plenty of flamethrowers."

"Good, then you do it and you do it fast. The B.. are Leeches and they're still active. They are all contained within the train carriage for now but that doesn't mean you can let your guard down. If just one of those things gets out then it is game over, do you understand?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" Carlos frowned. "I'm not some invalid; I know what I'm doing. I've been clearing up after your messes for a while now." Wesker gritted his teeth. He had the overwhelming desire to strike the man who stood before him but he supressed it. There were much more important things to do than to put this cocky hired gun in his place.

"I will leave things in your capable hands then," he said through his gritted teeth. "I need to take care of other critical matters."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Carlos asked as Wesker turned to walk away.

"Nothing you need concern yourself about," Wesker said as he got into his car, driving away with great speed. Carlos watched him fly around a corner and grinned before shaking his head and ordering the others into the station.

* * *

><p>Chris Redfield parked up at the 24 hour gym that he frequented. He was still in his work uniform but he had his gym clothes in the trunk of his car; he always had a set of gym clothes with him. He had come straight from the hospital where he took Barry Burton to get checked out after his encounter with the overgrown parasite a few hours earlier. Despite the fact that they were S.T.A.R.S., the waiting time was still quite long so Barry told Chris to go home.<p>

However Chris could not go home just yet; he was not tired. Despite the hour he knew that he would not be able to sleep unless he had at least an hour's workout. Taking his bag, Chris left the car and walked straight inside, exchanging the usual pleasantries with the woman who sat at the reception desk. After quickly getting changed Chris walked into the gym to begin his workout. It was busier than it usually was; there was one other person working out, sat at the rowing machine.

It was Jill Valentine.

Chris did a double take, looking at her, glancing away and then looking back to make sure he knew what he was seeing was true. He had never seen her here before, ever. He grinned and walked over to her. Jill was staring straight ahead as she rowed on the machine, impervious to any sort of distraction. He leant his head over directly in her line of sight.

"Hello," he said in a high voice.

"Jesus!" Jill cried, letting go of the bar causing it to fly backward with a bang. Chris took a step back and looked at her before he started laughing.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!"

"It's okay," Jill said with a wave of her hand. She wore light blue gym clothes; tracksuit pants and a top with black trainers. Her forehead was brim with sweat, which she quickly wiped away. Chris looked at the display on the machine and saw that she had been on there for over an hour. "How's it going?"

"I didn't know you came here," Chris said, leaning against a nearby machine and totally ignoring her question. "Although I come here really late so I didn't know anyone else came here."

"It's my first day," Jill chuckled. "Or… night, however you want to put it. I was driving around and thought I'd come here to work out some of my tension."

"You're stressed?" Chris asked.

"Sort of," Jill said, putting her hands together and rocking the seat back and forward slightly.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"It's weird," Jill bit her bottom lip, looking in the distance for a moment as she rocked. She eventually glanced over to Chris to tell him what happened. "Tonight after you and Barry left to go to the hospital I was walking to my car when I saw those two guys who were blocking our path to the basement earlier in the evening."

"The two guys we took out?"

"Yeah," Jill nodded. "The very same. I saw them leaving the police station."

"What did you do?"

"Well I went over to talk to them when I realised that they were with someone. They were with Carlos, the guy who tackled me when we were chasing the Licker a few weeks ago."

"The one who's a member of that paramilitary group that you've been looking into?"

"That's him. He appeared to be in charge of those guys because he ordered them to go away while he started talking to me."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing useful; it was all cryptic stuff about these weird creatures that he claims to fight on a daily basis. He has a name for them; a B.O.W."

"A what?"

"Exactly," Jill shrugged. "I have no idea what he was talking about. He implied that there's a lot more going on around here than what we see. He suggested that the work we do is trivial in comparison to his." She made an irritated gasp. "That man bugs me, Chris. He bugs me a lot. I mean he's powerful. He can put people in our police station as easy as flicking a light switch and he's got a team of armed soldiers at his disposal. He gives off the impression that he knows a lot; far more than you or I do. How sick is that? We're the law in this town and yet we don't have all the facts. There is some sort of conspiracy going on and the police department must be involved somehow." Jill shook her head, continuing to rock on the seat. She let out an angry breath. "How's Barry?" she asked, changing the subject.

"He's okay, I assume. He sent me home because the doctors were taking a while to see him." Jill nodded and looked down at the floor as she continued rocking.

"Did you say you saw Carlos outside the station?"

"I did," Jill nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just wondering… Didn't Irons install cameras outside in case someone tried walking out with one of his masterpieces?"

Jill's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, you're right," she said. "How did I not think of that?"

"The guy got under your skin," Chris shrugged. "It happens. Besides, no one thinks too clearly at this time of night."

"Well I'd better step my game up because I'm gonna go look for him right now," Jill said, standing up and heading for the exit. Chris turned and followed her.

"Right now?" he asked.

"Yes," Jill looked back, "I've spent the better part of a month looking for any shred of information that can tell me more about these guys and now an opportunity had fallen right into my lap. I can't waste it!"

"Then I'm coming with you," Chris said, stepping forward. "I can't let you take all the credit now can I? After all it is thanks to my genius that you can now look for him." Jill smirked and turned around.

"Get changed and I'll meet you out here in five."

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT<strong>

* * *

><p>Time was running out, a fact Wesker was too conscious of as he haphazardly parked his car in his space near the entrance of the police station. In a matter of hours the sun would rise and the police station would be occupied with nearly three times the amount of staff it had currently. If this mess had not been taken care of by then, Wesker would lose his handle of the situation and things would become very undesirable.<p>

The torched train should be reported within the next hour or so, meaning as many police officers as possible would leave the station to attend that crime scene. This would be when Wesker would be able to look at the witnesses and see which ones of them had seen anything incriminating. Once Wesker had identified the people who had seen too much it would be time for scare tactics to be implemented to ensure they would remain quiet. However this was not the time to think of that as Wesker made his way through the main entrance of the station. He needed to go to the interrogation room to sort out that scene. He wondered how long Daniel Best's body could go undiscovered for.

"Captain Wesker," the officer at the front desk called out as he saw him enter the building. "I have a message from Chief Irons here for you. It's urgent."

Wesker gritted his teeth as he hurried over to the desk. He took a sheet of paper from the officer and looked at it.

_I took care of it – Irons_

A slight sensation of relief washed over him. Wesker scrunched the paper in his hand and let out a sigh.

"It the Chief still in?" he asked.

"No, sir, he left hours ago." Wesker closed his eyes and nodded his head gently.

"Thank you," he said to the officer, ambling away at a leisurely pace. He felt as though he could relax for a moment and so he went to the S.T.A.R.S. office to sit down and have a cup of coffee.

The S.T.A.R.S. office was empty and the only source of light was Wesker's desk lamp. He sat there in the dark as he drank his coffee, allowing the recent events to sink in. The incident on the train and Daniel Best releasing the G-Larvae into the world must have been connected. Best must have been working for someone, someone who had access to James Marcus' work. Suddenly remembering he had the printed photograph of the prime suspect from the subway station, Wesker took it from his pocket and faxed it over to Birkin asking him to try and identify him. The computers at the Hive would be able to find him quicker and would not leave a trace like the ones in the police station. Wesker went back to his desk and sat down, knowing all he could do for the moment was wait.

Who was that man at the station and how is he connected to James Marcus? Why is James Marcus back? How is James Marcus still alive? These questions went through Wesker's mind as he started to hear the gunshots in his head once again. He closed his eyes and thought back to that evening ten years ago when James Marcus died.

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON CITY – 1988<strong>

* * *

><p>Dr James Marcus sat alone in his lab. He was an elderly man with short, thin, grey hair. His face with gaunt and his gaze was cold as he scribbled notes into a workbook, one of many that lay open on the crowded work bench. Alongside the notes there were sketches of various creatures of many shapes and sizes. One sketch depicted what appeared to be a common fly, a flea, a cricket and a locust being merged into one creature. Another sketch showed a small primate with a vicious face and teeth as sharp as blades. The majority of the sketches were of Leeches. Black and white photographs of these creatures are also visible in the dim light of the laboratory. The only source of light came from a large tank just to Marcus' left that held several of his Leech specimens. He glanced over to the tank every now and then when the next word he wanted to write momentarily eluded him. He liked looking over at the tank. The faint blue glow and the gentle humming from it relaxed him. Watching his prized creations move around in there contented made him feel happy. He suddenly thought of the word he was thinking of and continued to write, muttering softly as he did so.<p>

_'The indissoluble nature of the specimens cannot be overlooked. In confined spaces their numbers appear to fluctuate depending on context. If they feel threatened they multiply and can attack what they perceive to be hostile in a manner that shows a form of intelligence unprecedented in creatures before exposure to Progenitor. When in a relaxed state their numbers appear to visually subside but the manner in which this is done is still unknown, my current hypothesis is a form of osmosis where two creatures absorb each other to form one.'_ He looked up at the Leeches. A small handful of them were moving around on the surface of the glass as if they were trying to reach out. Marcus went back to writing.

_'It is hard for one to remain objective when one has invested so much time in a particular endeavour. To say that these Leeches are a representation of my life's work would be a fair statement. While I have done other things, achieved other goals, I have always come back to the Leeches. If it were not for the Leeches, "T" would never have been discovered. Despite an inclination for bias, I can objectively say that Spencer would be nowhere without me, that his entire world has been built on my shoulders. I am Atlas, holding his world up for reasons that escape me. As I look at my Leeches I see how irrelevant it all really is. I can sense their intelligence. I can tell that they recognise me, they know that I am different to all the other people they encounter. They are passive when I am around. They are like an obedient dog, happy to be in his master's presence. To know that I am respected by such a large number of intelligent creatures is truly intoxicating.' _

There came a noise from the darkness causing Marcus to turn around, dropping his pencil on the table. He looked into the darkness, his eyes straining to make out any shapes in the void. Suddenly the darkness turned into a blinding white glare. The ceiling lights had been switched on, momentarily blinding Marcus as his eyes acclimated to the new light. In the haze he made out two figures that made their way to the middle of the room. It did not take him long to make out who they were; Albert Wesker and William Birkin.

"What are you two doing here?" Marcus asked as he tried to blink the excess light out of his eyes. His Leeches had suddenly become agitated. "It's late! You know I don't like being disturbed when I am working late."

"It's just gone past sunrise, Dr Marcus," Birkin said with a smirk on his face. "I suppose time must fly when you're having fun talking to yourself."

"You've become a cocky bastard since you went off with Spencer, Birkin," Marcus said sharply. "It doesn't suit you. It doesn't suit either of you, working for him. You were my most promising protégées and now you seem perfectly inclined to waste your time running irrelevant errands for that old fool."

"Tell me how working for him is any different than working for you," Wesker asked. "Oh wait, no, I know the difference. Spencer doesn't turn his research assistants into subjects for biological experiments."

"Spencer wouldn't know the first thing about experimentation procedures," Marcus said, becoming irritated. "He's a bureaucrat, nothing more; a money grabbing parasite who wants to take as much as he can from other people's hard work without contributing a single thing. He's obsessed with results and with the power that they will bring him. For me it's about the journey; the quest for knowledge. He's got you two on a short leash; I warn you now of the consequences of what will happen if you even put a toe out of line with him."

"I think we know what the consequences are if we were to cross him," Birkin said, looking to the door. Two armed commandos entered the lab holding automatic weapons. Marcus had the sudden thought that they would harm his Leeches and so he moved in front of the tank.

"I see how it is," he muttered. "I warn you two; the day will come when it will be you staring down the end of Spencer's gun."

"We know how to keep Spencer happy," Birkin said. "We've got him on a leash."

"He tried keeping me on a leash, you know. When he became obsessed with other things and I remained passionate about the work he locked me down here to keep me quiet, keeping tabs on me in case I did something that could have in some way benefited him. He tried keeping me on a leash but a leash is little more than a rope with a noose at both ends. If he spent as much time working instead of keeping an eye on others he would be quite successful. Instead he smothers people. I would not let him suffocate me as he is suffocating you two. I pity you two, I truly do. You were the brightest associates I had ever come across. I felt it was my duty to nurture you as you found your way through the organisation and this is how you repay me; by sinking into the tar pits of mediocrity, becoming mere shadows of your former selves. It is tragic, really. Truly tragic."

"Are you done?" Birkin asked. Marcus frowned as a response. Birkin looked at the two commandos and nodded at them. They opened fire on Marcus, shooting him six times in the chest. The gunshots echoed throughout the lab and down the empty corridors. He fell to the ground as the bullets tore through his body as if he were made of paper. The tank shattered and Leeches fell out to the ground. He looked up at Wesker and Birkin. They were smirking at him as if he were some old dog that needed to be put down, which was exactly what they were doing. He would not give them any satisfaction by showing pain, fear or betrayal. He lay back and allowed death to embrace him.

As he lay there he felt one of his Leeches move across onto his body. A few others made their way over to Wesker and Birkin in an aggressive manner, causing them to back away slightly. Marcus lifted his hand and touched the Leech on his chest softly as if he were stroking a beloved pet, a loyal dog resting against his master's chest. Marcus felt a fleeting moment of happiness. His hand then fell limp.

A sudden bang stirred Wesker from his thoughts. With a jolt he sat upright in his chair, spilling his coffee on his hand. It was cold. He looked up and saw Enrico walking into the office, turning on the lights as he did so. He was surprised to see Wesker sitting at his desk.

"Morning, Captain," he said. "It's a bit early for you, isn't it?"

Wesker checked the time and felt the blood drain from his face. Four hours had passed since he had sat down. He had fallen asleep.

"It's early for you, too," Wesker said, trying to sound casual.

"There was a fire down on the subway early last night; four casualties," Enrico reported. "It looks like an accident but even so I sent most of my team to investigate. I've got Rebecca keeping an eye on the passengers. They all seem to have seen something pretty disturbing. The train driver, Jim Chapman; he seems to think he saw some sort of creature in the train car before it set on fire. We're checking his story with the evidence."

Wesker listened intently to Enrico, taking in every single shred of detail he offered him. It appeared that the Countermeasure Service had done their job effectively, making Wesker's task much more simple. However there was still a lot of work to be done. The majority of the witnesses could be silenced easily with psychological techniques to make them doubt themselves after all they had not seen the Leeches directly. The officers at the station could be silenced in a similar manner. The train driver, however, made Wesker slightly uneasy. He had seen the Leeches kill people, he must have done. It would be impossible to convince him that he had not seen what he had done. He was the only one who really knew anything.

While Enrico continued to speak, Wesker's mind was whirring, deciding what should be done. He decided the best course of action would be intense silence tactics; threaten him with prison if he talked to anyone about what he had seen. Even if he did speak Wesker could spin the story; an overworked, tired train driver would have little to no credibility and despite the fact that it was real, his story would sound very farfetched. Wesker felt more relaxed as things seemed to be coming together in his head. All he needed now was the identity of his suspect and then he could finally get some answers as to how James Marcus was involved in all of this. He glanced to the fax machine and saw that nothing had come through in the evening. He needed to speak with Birkin to find out what was taking so long.

"Enrico could you brief Chief Irons on the situation?" Wesker asked when Enrico had stopped talking about whatever it was he was saying.

"I… what?" Enrico looked confused. "Don't you usually brief him on everything?"

"Yes but you know more about the situation than I do; it is Bravo team's case. Besides I feel that sometimes I hog all the limelight. You're a valuable part of the team and I want to make sure this is not overlooked by Irons." Enrico smiled, clearly flattered. Wesker rarely gave compliments.

"Thank you, Captain," he said. "I appreciate that."

"Not at all," Wesker gestured in a light-hearted manner. "If you go now you could catch him before he starts to get the morning mopes."

Enrico nodded and left the office promptly. Wesker smiled as Enrico left. He had never given Enrico a compliment before; at least he could not remember ever giving him one. It felt… different. Shaking the feeling off he picked up the phone and dialled Birkin's number. It rang a few times before he answered.

"Hello?" Birkin sounded tired.

"It's me."

"Wesker… How nice of you to check up on me."

"Don't get used to it," he said. "What's your status?"

"I've not discovered how Daniel Best got the sample out of my lab. It's beginning to annoy me. I've been able to secure backups of all my research, though. So that's some good news. How are things going on your end?"

"There's been a little problem; it appears that someone has attacked a train using James Marcus' Leeches."

"You call that a 'little' problem, Albert? Jesus Christ, I would hate to encounter something you consider to be a big deal."

"Don't worry; I've sorted it. I had the Countermeasure Service clean it up. They've covered up the casualties and made it look like an electrical fire. Bravo team are investigating it but they'll come up with nothing pretty soon. When the witnesses are taken care of we can go about this mess now without having to fight the police."

"Witnesses?"

"Yeah, a handful of civilians and some cops. I can handle the latter; you'd be amazed at how effective the threat of losing a job is when wanting people to develop selective memories."

"What about the civilians?"

"The other civilians hardly saw anything; it's only the train driver who got a really good look at what happened."

"So you'll take care of him?"

"He's not really a priority; I have a suspect. I faxed you a photograph of him in the hopes you could track him down in a discreet manner. Have you managed to identify him yet?"

"I've been busy with other things like trying to protect my research from harm; I've not even checked my faxes."

"You're starting to sound like Dr Marcus," Wesker said, rubbing his temples with his free hand.

"All I hear is that you're leaving loose ends and if we want to keep this between us then we can't have that."

"Look will you just handle your end for me?" Wesker hissed. The door to the office opened and Barry Burton stepped inside. He nodded a hello at Wesker who lazily waved in response. "I gotta go. Page me when you've done it."

Wesker slammed the phone down and rubbed his forehead. He suddenly felt very tired once again.

"Morning, Captain," Barry said tentatively.

"Morning, Barry," Wesker said, placing his hands in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the bright lights of the office. There was a brief moment of silence while Barry decided whether or not it would be a good idea to speak.

"Is everything alright, sir?"

"Everything's fine," Wesker said, putting his hands together and placing them on the table. "I've just had a long night."

"Haven't we all?" Barry said, taking a seat. "I spent half the evening at Raccoon General waiting for a check-up."

"Are you okay?" Wesker asked, his interest minimal.

"Oh yes, I'm fine. I just wish I didn't have to wait so long. I felt like I should have been doing something more useful, like Chris and Jill have been doing all evening."

"What have they been doing?"

"I ran into Jill in the hallway; she told me that she might have a way to track one of those guys who ran off with the Licker."

Wesker suddenly felt sick and his interest spiked.

"Come again?"

"Carlos was his name, I think anyway. She said she saw him outside the station last night. They've already pulled an image of him from the security cameras and are trying to identify him downstairs."

Wesker got to his feet and stormed out of the room without saying a word, leaving Barry looking confused.

* * *

><p>The lower offices were as busy as they normally were with detectives and other officers moving around the room hastily, writing on paper, typing on computers and making telephone calls. In the corner of the office away from the hustle and bustle, Chris and Jill were sat at a small desk working on computers. They had accessed the police station's surveillance footage and had extracted a clear image of Carlos' face. They had been running it through various different databases for the past few hours. Despite the rewards a successful result would bring the work was very dull and tedious. Chris reached for his cup of coffee and lifted it before he realised it was empty and placed it back down dejectedly. Jill's gaze shifted from the computer screen to Chris, causing a small smile to form on her face. She then looked back as her computer delivered the result of the most recent search. There were no matches. She exhaled and leant back in her chair, shaking her head at the screen.<p>

"This is taking too long," Jill commented. "If I wasn't so darn paranoid about there being undercover operatives working within the department I'd assign this to a junior officer."

"Maybe we could leave this for another day?" Chris suggested.

"There are only a few more databases that we can search so we may as well finish it now." Chris let out a loud yawn and rubbed his eyes.

"Isn't sleep deprivation a form of torture?"

"You can hardly call it torture if it's self-inflicted," Jill said as she entered the search parameters for another database. "If you want to go home then I'll cover for you."

"No need," Chris said, standing up. "All I need is a cup of coffee to zap some energy into me. Do you want one?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Yeah, of course you're okay," Chris chuckled. "You don't sleep, do you?"

"Man up," Jill said as Chris moved lazily though the office to the kitchen out back, taking his empty cup with him. She watched him leave and chuckled to herself. The kitchen was a small room with some cupboards, a fridge, a sink and a coffee pot. Chris began making himself some coffee when Officer Raymond Douglas walked by the doorway. He turned and saw Chris in there and changed direction, stepping inside.

"Hey Chris," he said with a weak, tired smile. Chris slowly turned around and for a moment did not recognise who he was. It then suddenly came to him and he smiled with equal tiredness.

"Hey, Ray."

"Jesus you look like crap," Douglas said, stepping close to him. "Is everything alright?"

"I've not slept in what feels like forever," Chris told him, leaning against one of the cupboards and yawning. "I could do without nights like this."

"I know how you feel. I was supposed to go home hours ago but Wesker wouldn't let me until he said so."

"Why'd he do that?"

"Oh why does Wesker do anything?" Douglas shrugged. "He made a bunch of civilians stick around all night, too. The man doesn't think like normal people."

"What?" Chris gave a look of disbelief, folding his arms.

"Well you know," Douglas said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. "They're the witnesses."

"To what?"

"To the… incident."

"What incident?" Chris asked looking even more confused. "I know I'm tired but I must have missed something. Douglas narrowed his eyes.

"You… don't know about the incident?"

"Ray if you don't stop being obscure I'm gonna hurt you."

"The subway," Douglas said with a whisper. "Do you really not know what happened?" An icy stare was his answer. "Last night on the subway something happened on a train and four people were killed. Don't ask me how they died; all I know is that there was something not right inside the train carriage. I responded with some other officers and got the driver and the other passengers out when Wesker showed up. He took one look at the scene and told me to take everyone back to the station and keep our mouths shut."

"If he told you to keep it quiet why are you telling me all this?"

"He said that he'd get his people on it; I assumed he meant you guys. Besides you just said you'd hurt me if I didn't."

Chris took a moment to think. Something happened on the subway last night which Wesker thought was too sensitive for the regular police to handle. There had been a couple of incidents that sounded remarkably similar over the past month. Chris wondered if they were in any way connected. So far there had been no obvious link between the Licker and the parasite that had made its way through the basement the night before but the short space of time between incidents must have some significance.

"There's more," Douglas said, getting Chris' full attention once more. He had suddenly become more energetic. "I was listening on the news today and there was apparently a fire in a subway car last night that killed four people. The subway station closed is the one I was at last night." Chris paused, allowing the words to fill the air for a moment.

Wesker had covered up some sort of incident whether it was a traditional crime or something unforeseen had yet to be ascertained. What troubled Chris was the fact that Wesker had kept this from his S.T.A.R.S. team, the people who were around for this exact type of thing.

"Have you told anyone else?" Chris asked, stepping away from the cupboard.

"No."

"Keep it that way," Chris ordered. "Go back to where you're supposed to be and pretend like nothing ever happened; you and I need to talk about this in great detail but not right now. Do you understand?"

"Sure," Douglas nodded.

"I'll call you," Chris said, leaving the kitchen. Officer Raymond Douglas stood there on his own wishing he had just kept his mouth shut.

Chris walked back into the office and headed for Jill. He pulled a seat close to hers and sat down next to her. She looked him up and down with a slight expression of curiosity.

"What happened to your coffee?"

"I need to talk to you about something sensitive."

Jill gave him an interested look and leant forward just as the door to the office opened and Wesker set foot inside. He saw them and went over with the speed of a predator swooping down on its prey.

"Hello, Captain," Jill said.

"Hello Jill, Chris," Wesker said quickly. "I have an urgent assignment for you both." Wesker glanced at the screen and saw a database search was underway. This meant that their search for Carlos' identity had been fruitless so far. "The family of a local scientist has received death threats; I've been asked to put some people on the family to look out for them from afar. Chris, I want you and Barry to look out for the child while Jill I want you to look out for the mother with Brad."

"Are you sure this is a good use of our time?" Jill asked.

"All I know is that I gave you an order and I expect it to be followed, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jill said.

"Good; let's head up to the office and I'll give you all a briefing."

Jill turned off the computer, cancelling the search in doing so. She left the room with Chris who shot Wesker an unseen suspicious look. Wesker was looking at Jill and Chris' computers with unease as he followed them to the office.

* * *

><p>Wesker had finished delivering the assignments to his team and had sent them on their way. He had paired up Chris and Jill with Barry and Brad respectively as he did not want them discussing Carlos Oliveira between themselves. His identity needed to be preserved as in doing so it preserved the existence of the Countermeasure Service. Even though he was sure that all records of people belonging to the Countermeasure Service had been expunged when they joined Wesker had enough to deal with today and Chris and Jill's private investigation was little more than unnecessary stress. There was still a slight chance they could find a strand somewhere that they could use to unravel the entire operation; he needed to wipe all evidence of the searches from the computers.<p>

But first there was the issue with the witnesses. Wesker flicked through interview transcripts and notes written by questioning officers that had been delivered to him by Raymond Douglas. It appeared to be true that the train driver was indeed the only one who really saw anything. Wesker decided to take care of this situation right now and ordered Douglas to tell the men to release all of the civilians, providing them with rides home. He also instructed him to tell them all to forget about everything that they had seen that night; it officially did not happen. As Douglas carried out his instructions, Wesker took all of the written reports, rough notes and all other physical evidence taken before the train was set on fire down into the basement.

Wesker's footsteps echoed in the empty corridors underneath the police department. After the parasite incident the night before the place had been deserted. Wesker walked into the furnace room and approached the massive device that had destroyed all evidence of the G-Larvae. Wesker opened the furnace doors and threw in all of the evidence collected about the subway train, watching it as the heat and flames incinerated it. All that was left to do now was wipe the station computers of all records of the train, of Chris and Jill's private research and of the security footage that showed the presence of Carlos and the other members of the Countermeasure Service. After all that was done everything would be fine, leaving Wesker to focus on what really mattered: finding the people responsible for the Leeches and establishing their connection to James Marcus.

Wesker took the door handle of the furnace and closed it; slamming it shut with a loud metallic bang.

* * *

><p>Officer Raymond Douglas sat in his squad car driving Jim Chapman home from the police station. His work day had been long and tiring and he was glad it was nearly over. All he had to do was drop Jim off and then he could go home and get some much earned rest. Jim looked about as tired as he did, however his attention was directed at a crossword puzzle and not on how tired he felt. Douglas watched him do his puzzle out of the corner of his eye as he turned a corner and saw himself driving into the less wealthy part of town. The streets were suddenly dirtier, the buildings were in poorer condition than the ones closer to the city centre and the people appeared to be rougher. Douglas felt a twinge of anxiety as he drove deeper into the neighbourhood.<p>

"Don't worry," Jim said to him, not looking up from his crossword puzzle. "You can say it; I live in a crap neighbourhood. I know that I do. You've probably been called out here on one or two occasions."

"I couldn't say. I get a lot of calls."

"Don't kid a kidder, Officer," Jim said as he filled in several lines of the puzzle. He was getting through it unusually quickly. Douglas was intrigued by Jim; during most of his time at the station he spent his time filling out puzzles and completing quizzes with a high level of success.

"You're good at those aren't you?"

"I guess you could say that. I just know a lot of useless stuff is all. I figure I may as well put some of my knowledge to good use."

"You ever win any money on them things?"

"Every once in a while," Jim nodded. "It's never a life changing amount but I save it so that I can move out of here and go somewhere nice."

"Good plan," Douglas said with a smile. It was nice to see a young person who was as down to earth as he was. "It's good to see someone with a real talent."

"I'm good at paper football, too," Jim said, causing them both to laugh.

"It's just over here," Jim told him

Douglas pulled over outside a grotty apartment complex. Jim got out of the car and waved goodbye as he went for the door. He set foot in his apartment building allowing the door to the lobby close behind him on its own. He stood in the hallway for a moment and let out a large sigh, resting his forehead back on the grimy glass of the door. Without his puzzles to focus on he suddenly felt incredibly tired. His plans were to get inside his apartment and get straight to bed.

Jim pushed the button for the elevator and waited patiently for it to come. After a few minutes he pushed the button again and waited a little while longer before realising it was not coming. Cursing under his breath, Jim climbed up the twelve flights of stairs to reach the floor his apartment was on. On the twelfth floor Jim moved toward his apartment door and fumbled around with the keys as he unlocked it. Around a corner he did not see that the elevator door on his floor was open, however a black duffel bag was placed in the way of the doors preventing them from closing.

Jim opened the door to his apartment and went inside, closing the door behind him. His apartment was small and very messy. There was one main living area with a small kitchen attached and two doors that led to either the bathroom or bedroom. The lounge had an old sofa, a modern television and a set of dining chairs around a table. However judging by the food stains on the sofa he rarely ate there. In the main area Jim saw one of his dining chairs in the middle of the room, stood there underneath the large, thick water pipe next to the feeble ceiling fan. Curious, Jim moved over toward it the random chair and went to put it back at the table. That is where he saw the sheet of paper with a note written on it.

_I couldn't live knowing those people died on my train._

Jim stopped for a moment, leaving his hand on the chair. There was someone here. Jim turned and fell backward in shock. Before him stood a person dressed in the same attire as the Countermeasure Service with the same logo. He was tall, big, with dark skin and an oddly calm bespectacled stare. The man was holding a pistol. Jim tried crawling away but there was nowhere for him to go.

"Come on now, don't be like this; let's just keep things easy." Jim froze and sat completely still. His hat had fallen off revealing short curly blonde hair. His heart was beating with palpable intensity. "We can still conduct ourselves like civilized individuals. Now I want you to get up now. Get up on your feet, come on now."

The intruder spoke with a calming tone, similar to a parent gently encouraging their young child to be adventurous. It was jarring and did not fit the situation. Nevertheless Jim decided to do what he was told and got to his feet with slow, deliberate movements.

"I am Tyrell Patrick," the intruder said. "I'm a member of the Countermeasure Service; the people who destroyed the train you were driving earlier this morning. You are in an unfortunate position as you were really the only person who saw precisely what happened on the train, namely the B.O.W.s that had infested the carriage and killed the passengers. Now, the police officers can be controlled; however you are a dangerous witness and your silence cannot be guaranteed so I am going have to kill you now. I will make it look like you hanged yourself so that your death will not lead to many questions. Please don't do anything to offset this plan or else things will become very unpleasant for you."

Jim just stood there, motionless, as Tyrell spoke to him as if he were planning some sort of business deal. The cadence in his voice was terrifying. Jim wanted to run, he wanted to fight but he knew that he could not overpower this man who stood before him. There was no way that he could be reasoned with; he simply would not let him live.

"I'm going to ask you to empty your pockets and place the contents of which on the ground in front of you. After that you will take off your belt and hook it around that large pipe there. Then you will get on the chair, kick it away and die quickly and easily."

Jim did as he was told taking out his wallet and placing it on the floor. He looked up at Tyrell.

"Can I keep my lucky coin on me?" he asked. "I always have it with me."

"It ain't gonna do you much good now," Tyrell commented but let him take the coin out. Jim held it in his hand for a moment, squeezing it tight before sighing.

"You take it," he said, flicking the coin into the air with his thumb. Tyrell instinctively reached out into the air for it. In the moment his guard was down, Jim grabbed the chair next to him and swung it at the man. The thick wood shattered with fierce intensity and Tyrell dropped the coin and let out a cry of pain, falling onto his back but still holding his gun tightly. Jim picked the coin from off the ground as he took a piece of wood that had broken off his smashed chair and struck Tyrell over the head with it as he started to get up. The man fell back into the dining table, causing a great crash as he did so, giving Jim time to run for the door. He grabbed his keys and left the apartment, locking the door behind him and buying him time to widen the gap between him and Tyrell.

Jim ran down the corridor and headed straight for the elevator. He stumbled across the duffel bag that was preventing the doors from closing. He peered inside and saw several pieces of high grade technology and what appeared to be some magazine clips for weapons. He heard a gunshot come from down the hall as Tyrell shot the lock on the apartment door, kicking it open. Jim pulled the duffel bag into the elevator and the doors closed, sending the carriage down to the ground floor.

As soon as the doors opened Jim ran out of the apartment building as fast as he could with Tyrell's bag. By the time Tyrell made it down the stairs and emerged on the streets Jim was long gone. He cursed, and lifted his handheld radio.

"We've got a problem."

* * *

><p>It was mid-afternoon and Chris Redfield entered the police station looking visibly better than when he had left. Spending hours in a car with Barry making sure a little girl was safe allowed him plenty of time to catch up on his sleep. He had forgotten about Raymond Douglas' earlier comments, dismissing them as fantasy. He was too tired to think about conspiracies. After dozing through most of his shift, Barry told him to go home and get some proper rest saying that he would cover for him. However from the moment Chris left Barry's car he felt a surge of energy and motivation; he would go back to the station and finish off searching for Carlos on the computers. It would be a nice surprise for when Jill got back. Chris stepped into the office where he had previously been working only to find Jill sat behind a desk, using the computer.<p>

"I should have known you'd strong arm Brad into covering for you," Chris joked, stepping over to her. He realised that her face was grim. Concerned he leant close to her. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's deleted all of our search history," Jill answered flatly.

Chris took her to one side in the corridor that led to the basement. It was quiet as nobody was heading this way still.

"What happened?" he asked her, certain that they would not be overheard.

"I came back to try and finish off our work to find that all records of our search had been deleted. I couldn't recover them at all. I figured it was some sort of error or mistake so I went to the surveillance room to get the security tape again only to find that someone had destroyed it."

"What do you mean?"

"Every image taken from the cameras in the past forty-eight hours has been wiped off the face of the earth. There's no trace of it anywhere." Jill let out an angry moan and began pacing. "I can't believe this. There must be people in here working against us; working with those damned mercenaries. I can feel it, Chris. I know that there's something going on!"

"I agree," Chris nodded. "And I think I might know who it is."

"Who?" Jill asked, stepping close in anticipation.

"Wesker."

"Wesker?"

"Wesker," Chris repeated. "I've got this weird vibe off him recently. I dunno… he took us off the search pretty quickly didn't he?"

"Well, yeah, but he didn't know what we were doing."

"He made us leave the station to go and sit on our hands; he wanted us out of the way for a while."

"I dunno…" Jill started to pace again, this time she moved slower, deep in thought. "Wesker? Really? The guy's a stickler for the rules. I can't really see him working for some shady armed gang who are cleaning the mean streets of weird things. If he did then why were we involved in the Licker case? Or with that parasite thing last night?"

"Last night there was an incident on a subway train."

"The fire that killed four people?" Jill asked. "What does that have to do with…?"

"There was a fire reported, yes, but that's not the whole story. Ray Douglas was called to an incident on the subway because four people had died in an unusual manner. The way he spoke it sounded as if there was something on the train, something not normal. Wesker turned up, shooed everyone away claiming that he'd get his people on it; only we were never called and that train turned up torched."

Chris looked around nervously and stepped close to Jill, putting his body close to hers. He lowered his voice as he finished speaking.

"Look, I know that we're both paranoid and rightly so but from what Ray told me it sounds like Wesker is keeping a lot of secrets. If there is anyone working against us it would be him; he has the power, the authority and the means to do pretty much whatever he wants. It's gotta be him."

"Okay, assuming we're actually having this conversation how can we prove that it is him?" Jill asked. "We can't even begin to think what to do next unless we have conformation." Chris bit his lip for a moment as he thought.

"We could get Richard; he's good at discreet computer stuff. He could check for us to see when everything was deleted and by who."

"Can you trust him to be discreet?" Jill asked.

"We have no choice," Chris said, marching away toward the S.T.A.R.S. office. He was determined to put an end to this once and for all. If Wesker was trying to sabotage their attempts at discovering the true identity of Carlos and those he worked for then something big must be going on; something that he needed to find out. As they walked through the offices, they heard a few detectives and police officers having a heated discussion. They looked over as they heard one person saying all of the reports he had written on the computer had been deleted. Another person said that all of the physical evidence collected and written statements had been misplaced. Chris and Jill shared a knowing look; they were the same people who had been investigating the subway fire. They hurried over to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Inside the office they went straight over to Richard who was standing with Rebecca talking about something insignificant. Forest, Edward and Kenneth were sat at their desks all working as Chris and Jill approached Richard.

"We need you to do something for us," Chris told him.

"Now," Jill added with a firmness in her tone that was harder than steel.

"What's going on?" Richard asked.

"Is everything okay?" Rebecca added, visibly concerned.

"Just get on your computer, Richard," said Chris who suddenly pointed at Forest who was standing up to begin to nose in. "Keep out of it."

Richard sat at his computer with Chris and Jill stood uncomfortably close at each side of him.

"What we need you to do is to unofficially trace the identity of a person who has deleted something off the mainframe."

"I dunno, guys," Richard said with unease. "This sounds a little…"

"Do it, Richard," Jill hissed menacingly. Richard shook his head, bit his lip but did as he was told. He typed and clicked as Chris and Jill issued varying instructions. It did not take him long to gain access to the station's activity history. After a moment of scanning through line after line of computer code he came across an entry that deleted all security camera footage from the past two days. It was right before an entry that wiped all records of the subway fire from the mainframe. There was one person responsible for both incursions.

"Raymond Douglas?" Chris whispered, unbelieving. "I don't… I don't understand."

"He was the one who ushered you in the direction of…" Jill looked around, very aware of her surroundings. "The direction of your initial suspect… maybe he was trying to manipulate you?"

"I can't believe it," Chris stood back in shock. He looked up at Jill who stepped close to him. "Ray is some sort of… some sort of plant?" They stood in silence for a moment with everyone looking at them. "What do we do now?"

"We have evidence that Ray is intentionally destroying evidence; we can arrest him on that basis and then try to ascertain his link to Carlos and the mercenaries."

"Yeah," Chris nodded slowly.

"Guys what the hell is going on?" Forest asked. "You're freaking us all out!"

Chris and Jill looked at him, each other and then back to them.

"We're not going to keep things from you," Chris said. "There's something going on inside the station."

* * *

><p><strong>RACCOON PARK<strong>

* * *

><p>Wesker walked briskly to the centre of the park where Birkin was standing. Birkin had paged him not too long ago saying that they needed to meet immediately. Wesker was feeling confident, more so than he had done since the start of the day when everything appeared to be falling apart around him. He had handled everything at the station with immaculate precision. All information regarding the subway fire and the Countermeasure Service had been destroyed and he was able to shift the blame onto Officer Raymond Douglas by using his computer and login. Chris and Jill would no doubt discover this and Douglas' career would be destroyed and he could even serve some prison time. Wesker would talk to Irons later to ensure he would get as minimal punishment as possible and that his family would be looked after. He may do harsh things in order to achieve his goal, but Wesker was a man who would always pay those was indebted to.<p>

As Wesker approached Birkin he noticed that the man looked terrible. His skin was pale and his eyes looked dry and tired. His face hardly changed as he saw Wesker approach. He did not move as he approached him, he did not change his posture or expression. He remained as he was, appearing as feeble as a crippled old man.

"Good God you look terrible," Wesker said, stopping near him. "Is everything alright?"

"Do I look alright, Albert?" Birkin replied with a spit. "Honestly, you're the police officer. Can you not tell if everything is alright or not? I am stressed. Very stressed."

"You've nothing to be stressed about," Wesker assured him. "Everything is taken care of. I have wiped the station of any trace of what has been happening during the past few days so relax; everything is fine."

"Everything is not fine; you couldn't handle that witness, could you? If you could not take care of one train driver on your own then how useful are you, really, in the great scheme of things? How good are you in situations like this?"

"Why did you call me here, William?" Wesker asked after a brief pause. "Not that I don't love our little chats when you're acting crazy but there must be good reason to drag me out of work, other than to throw abuse at me."

"I have discovered the identity of the man who is behind the Leech attack on the train," Birkin said. "Is that a good enough reason for you to take time out of your day to see an old friend?" Wesker's face fell as Birkin spoke. He had assumed Birkin had paged him for an irrelevant reason like to find out his progress.

"Who is it?"

Birkin reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph of the suspect on the train platform. He then pulled out another photograph. It was a black and white portrait of the same man in a formal pose, taken by a professional photographer. It looked to be quite old.

"I searched the databases extensively but had no luck. It's as if this man didn't exist. So I spread the net out further, checking nationwide databases on criminal activity, there was nothing. I decided to then check out, on a whim, public libraries to see if this man was in a yearbook or something and I got some results. This man is so hard to find, as if he doesn't exist. Well that's because he doesn't exist, not anymore."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"He's dead, or rather he should be dead. He died about ten years ago."

"Ten years ago?" Wesker's eyes narrowed. They suddenly widened as he made the connection. "Ten years? No, it can't be."

"I'm afraid so."

"But we were there!"

"It's hard to fake getting shot in the chest six times, Albert," Birkin said. "He died."

"Dear God… It can't be…"

"But it is," Birkin nodded, holding the pictures up. "The man behind the train appears to be James Marcus himself."

"But that's impossible!" Wesker spat. "We saw Marcus die. He was shot and you can't fake that. How can he be back and why is he suddenly so young? Is it his son or something?"

"Marcus had no family, nothing other than those Leeches anyway. This puts the events of the past few days into a whole new context now," Birkin lowered the pictures. "Before we thought it was an attack; with Marcus stealing my research and destroying the train. But no; my G-Larvae was him sending us a message. He is telling us that he is back and he is capable of anything."

"And the train?" Wesker asked.

"The train is him announcing war," Birkin replied. "He's coming after us, Albert. My God if the man can strike the city in its lowest depths what do you think he will do to us?"

All of the confidence Wesker had felt previously had gone. He was trying to get his head around the facts. James Marcus was back from the dead in ways that he did not know how. He was scared.

"We've got bigger problems on our hands," Wesker said. "Think of the bigger picture; we have taken everything away from him. He obviously can't have it back so he will try and destroy everything that we have now. He's going to try and destroy Raccoon City."

Wesker and Birkin stood there alone in the park. James Marcus was out there somewhere and he was no doubt preparing another attack.

It was only a matter of time.


End file.
